THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

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VERNON  PATTERSON 


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GEOFFREY     CHAUCER. 


THE 

POETICAL    WORKS 

cP 

OF 

/  •  •>  C 
/.  ^y 

GEOFFREY  CHAUCER. 

-    5K 

A  NEW  TEXT,  WITH  ILLUSTEATIVE  NOTES, 


BT 


THOMAS   WRIGHT,    ESQ.S 

M.A.,  F.S.A.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK  :  46  EAST  HTH  STREET 
THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  COMPANY 

BOSTON  :    100  PURCHASK  STUKKT 


INTRODUCTION. 


FOR  about  two  centuries  after  the  Norman  conquest,  Atglo- 
Normau  was  almost  exclusively  the  language  of  literature  in 
this  country.  The  few  exceptions  belong  to  the  last  expiring 
remains  of  an  older  and  totally  different  Anglo-Saxon  style,  or 
to  the  first  attempts  of  a  new  English  one,  formed  upon  a  Nor 
man  model.  Of  the  two  grand  monuments  of  the  poetry  of 
this  period,  Layamon  belongs  to  the  former  of  these  classes,  and 
the  singular  poem  entitled  the  Onnuluin  to  the  latter.  After 
the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  attempts  at  poetical 
composition  in  English  became  more  frequent  and  more  success- 
ful, and  previous  to  the  age  of  Chaucer  we  have  several  poems 
of  a  very  remarkable  character,  and  some  good  imitations  of 
the  harmony  and  spirit  of  the  French  versification  of  the  time. 

During  this  latter  perioJ  there  had  been  a  great  movement  in 
intelligence  and  art  throughout  Europe,  which  was  showing  itself 
sometimes  in  one  place  and  sometimes  in  another,  and  which 
was  giving  great  promises  of  a  splendid  future.  By  the  end  of 
the  thirteenth  century  it  broke  out  in  Italy  in  Dante,  and  a 
little  later  in  Petrarch.  In  France  it  showed  itself  in  a  multi- 
tude of  poetical  compositions,  remarkable  for  their  spirit  and 
harmony  of  versification.  In  England  it  became  magnificently 
embodied  in  Chaucer,  almost  to  rise  and  die  with  him ;  for  two 
centuries  passed  away  before  another  poet  was  produced  who 
could  lay  any  claim  to  rivalry  with  his  great  predecessor. 

According  to  the  best  information  that  can  be  collected, 
Geoff  ley  Chaucer  was  born  somewhere  near  the  year  1328,*  hit 
family  being  apparently  citizens  of  London.  The  accounts  of 
his  earlier  years  and  of  his  education  are  vague  and  unsatisfac- 
tory; but  he  was  certainly  a  man  of  extensive  learning,  and  he 
had  the  education  of  a  gentleman  :  he  is  generally  believed  to 
have  been  bred  to  the  law.  \Ve  learn  from  Chaucer's  own 
testimony,  given  at  a  later  period,  in  the  case  of  the  Grosvenor 

*  The  following  notice  of  the  personal  history  of  the  poet  is  chiefly  ar. 
abridgment  of  the  Life  of  C/i'iurtr  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  who  gathered  »  »• 
aether  a  mass  of  curious  facts  from  the  public  records,  many  of  them  not 
known  before. 


INTRODUCTION. 


peerage,  that  in  the  autumn  of  1359  he  was  in  the  army  with 
which  Edward  III.  invaded  France,  which  was  his  first  military 
service,  and  that  he  was  made  prisoner  by  the  French  during 
the  expedition  which  terminated  with  the  peace  of  Chartres  in 
May,  1360. 

We  know  nothing  further  of  Chaucer's  history  until  13G7, 
when  a  pension  of  twenty  marks  yearly  for  life  was  granted  by 
the  king  to  the  poet,  as  one  of  the  valets  of  the  king's  chaml>er, 
in  consideration  of  his  services.  About  the  same  time  he  mar- 
ried Philippa,  one  of  the  ladies  in  attendance  on  the  queen, 
who  is  said  to  have  been  the  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Payne 
Roet,  king-of-arms  of  Guienne,  and  sister  of  Katherine,  widow 
of  Sir  Hugh  Swynford,  and  subsequently  wife  of  John  of 
G?unt,  duke  of  Lancaster.  In  1370,  as  we  find  from  the  rec- 
ords, Chaucer  was  employed  in  the  king's  service  abroad. 
Two  years  after  this,  on  the  12th  of  November,  1372,  the  poet 
was  sent  on  a  mission  to  Genoa,  to  treat  on  the  choice  of  a  port 
in  England  where  the  Genoese  might  form  a  commercial  estab- 
lishment ;  he  appears  to  have  remained  in  Italy  nearly  a  year, 
as  we  do  not  trace  him  in  England  until  the  latter  part  of  No- 
vember, 1373,  and  we  then  find,  by  the  allowance  of  his  ex- 
penses, that  he  had  been  on  the  king's  service  to  Florence  as 
well  as  to  Genoa.  We  are,  unfortunately,  in  perfect  ignorance 
of  Chaucer's  movements  in  Italy  ;  and  the  statement  of  the  old 
biographers  that  he  visited  Petrarch  at  Padua,  is  founded  on 
mere  suppositions  totally  unsupported  by  any  known  evidence. 
It  can  hardly  be  believed,  however,  that  Chaucer  did  not  profit 
by  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  him  of  improving  his  acquaint- 
ance with  the  poetrv.  if  not  with  the  poets,  of  the  country  he 
thus  visited,  whose  influence  was  now  being  felt  on  the  litera- 
ture of  most  countries  of  Western  Europe.  He  was  evidently 
well  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  Dante, ^and  probably  with 
those  of  Petrarch,  if  not  with  those  of  Beccaccio.  He  dis- 
tinctly quotes  the  former  poet  more  than  once  ;  thus,  in  the 
Wife  of  Bath's  Tale:  — 

"  Wel  can  the  wyse  poet  of  Florence, 
That  hatte  Daunt,  speke  of  this  sentence." 

The  "  sentence,"  as  Chaucer  gives  it,  is  almost  a  literal  trans- 
lation from  the  Purgatorio.  It  may  be  observed  aL-o,  that  the  in- 
ference from  this  and  other  circumstances  is  strongly  in  favor 
of  the  belief  that  Chaucer  was  well  acquainted  with  the  Italian 
language,  which  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  doubt*,  I  think  without 
sufficient  reason. 

That  Chaucer  acquitted  himself  well  as  an  ambassador,  and 
that  the  king  was  satisfied  with  his  services,  we  can  have  no 
doubt;  for  on  the  23d  of  April  following  the  monarch  made 


INTRODUCTION. 


him  a  grant  for  life  of  a  pitcher  of  wine  daily,  an  appropriate 
gift  for  a  poet,  but  \\liich  nevertheless  seems  to  have  been  soon 
commuted  for  the  payment  of  its  value  in  money.  About  six 
weeks  after  this,  on  the  8th  of  June,  1374,  Chaucer  was  ap- 
pointed comptroller  of  the  customs  and  subsidy  of  wools,  skins, 
and  tanned  hides  in  the  port  of  London  ;  and  it  was  stipulated 
that,  he  should  write  the  rolls  of  his  office  with  his  own  hand, 
and  peiiorm  his  duties  personally  and  not  by  deputy.  This 
might  be  supposed  to  show  that  Chaucer's  poetical  talents  were 
not  very  generously  appreciated  ;  but  it  appears  in  reality  that 
it  was  a  mere  formula  of  the  grant  of  the  office.  From  this 
time  to  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  the  poet  continued 
to  enjoy  the  royal  favor  ;  and  he  not  only  received  several 
marks  of  his  sovereign's  generosity,  but  he  was  employed  fre- 
quently in  public  service  of  importance.  During  the  la-st  year 
of  Edward's  reign,  A.  D.  1377,  he  was  sent  successively  to  Flan- 
ders and  to  France,  being  in  the  first  mission  associated  with 
Sir  Thomas  Percy  (afterwards  Earl  of  Worcester),  and  in  the 
second  attached  to  an  embassy  to  treat  of  peace  with  Charles  V. 
It  is  probable  that  Chaucer  was  re-appointed  one  of  the 
king's  esquires  on  the  accession  of  Richard  II.,  and  he  certain- 
ly did  not  decline  in  court  favor.  In  the  middle  of  January, 
1378,  he  was  again  sent  to  France,  attached  to  an  embassy,  the 
«bject  of  which  was  to  negotiate  King  Richard's  marriage  with 
a  daughter  of  the  French  monarch,  llis  stay  in  France  was 
not  long,  for  in  the  May  of  the  same  year  he  was  employed  on 
a  IR-W  mission,  being  sent  with  Sir  Edward  Berkely  to  Loiu- 
banly,  to  treat  with  Bernardo  Visconti,  Lord  of  Milan,  arid  the 
celebrated  Sir  John  Hawkwood,  apparently  to  persuade  them 
to  assist  in  some  warlike  expedition  contemplated  by  the  Eng- 
lish government  ;  and  from  this  mission  Chaucer  appears  not 
to  have  returned  until  the  end  of  the  year.  It  was  on  this  oc- 
casion that  Chaucer  nominated  as  one  of  his  representatives,  in 
case  of  any  legal  proceedings  during  his  absence  (to  which  peo- 
ple in  those  days  were  liable),  John  Gower,  a  circumstance 
which  establishes  the  fact  of  the  intimate  friendship  between 
the  two  poets.  We  know  that  Chaucer  dedicated  his  Troilus 
and  Crcteide,  written  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  the  reigti  of 
Richard  II.  (1392-3),  to  Gower;  and  the  latter  poet,  in  tin 
ConJ'esstii.  Amantis,  makes  Venus  say  of  Chaucer  : 

"  And  grete  wel  Chaucer,  when  ye  mete, 
As  my  disciple  ami  my  poeLe  ; 
For  in  the  tloures  of  hi.*  youthe, 
In  sundry  wyse.  as  he  wel  i-ouUie, 
Of  Uytees-  anil  ot  KongeS  ^lade, 
The  whicho  he  for  my  Bake  made, 
The  lande  fulfylled  is  over  alle  ; 
Whereof  to  him  in  speoyalle, 
Above  all  other,  1  am  um.-t  hnlde. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Forthy  nowe  In  his  dayes  olde 
Thou  Bhalle  him  telle  this  message. 
That  he  uppon  his  latter  age. 
To  sette  an  end  of  al  hi8  werke, 
Aa  he  whiohe  is  myn  owne  olerke, 
Do  make  his  Testament  of  Ix>ve, 
As  thou  hast  done  thy  shrift  above, 
So  that  my  courte  yt  may  recorde." 

It  kas  been  supposed,  on  very  slight  grounds,  that  Chance r'g 
friendship  for  (Jower  met  with  some  interruption  towards  th< 
end  of  his  life.* 

Soon  after  his  return  from  Italy,  Chaucer  appears  to  have 
been  again  employed  on  foreign  service,  for  the  records  shcuv 
that  he  was  absent  from  May  to  December,  1370.  In  138:2  he 
received  the  appointment  of  comptroller  of  the  petty  customs  of 
the  port  of  London,  in  addition  to  his  previous  office  of  comp- 
troller of  the  customs  and  subsidies;  and  in  February,  1385,  he 
obtained  the  still  greater  favor  of  being  allowed  to  nominate  a 
permanent  deputy,  by  which  the  poet  must  have  been  partially 
released  from  duties  which  can  never  have  been  agreeable  to 
his  tastes. 

Several  circumstances  show  that  Chaucer  had  some  intimate 
connection  with  the  county  of  Kent,  where  he  probably  held 
property  ;  and  he  was  elected  a  knight  of  the  shire  for  that 
county  in  the  parliament  which  met  at  Westminster  on  the  1st 
of  October,  1386,  and  which  closed  its  session  on  the  1st  of  No- 
vember following  ;  shortly  after  which  (before  the  4th  of 
December,  138Gj  Chaucer  was  dismissed  from  his  employments, 
but  for  what  reason  we  have  not  the  slightest  intimation, 
though  it  was  doubtless  connected  with  some  of  the  petty  in- 
trigues of  this  intriguing  reign.  Probably,  as  Sir  Harris  Nic- 
olas supposes,  he  had  become  obnoxious  to  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  and  the  other  ministers  who  had  succeeded  his  pa- 
tron, the  Duke  of  Lancaster,  in  the  government ;  and  it  is  well 
known  that  the  proceedings  of  the  parliament  ju.st  alluded  to 
were  directed  against  the  Duke  of  Lancaster's  party. 

We  know  nothing  further  of  Chaucer's  history  until  the 
year  13S8,  except  that  he  continued  regularly  to  receive  his  two 
pensions  of  twenty  marks  each  ;  but  on  the  1st  of  May  in  the 
latter  year,  the  grants  of  these  pensions  were  at  his  request 
cancelled,  and  the  annuities  assigned  to  John  Scalby,  which  lias 
been  considered  as  a  proof  that  the  poet  was  at  that  time  in 
distress,  and  obliged  to  sell  his  pensions.  Exactly  a  year  after 
this,  in  May,  1380,  on  the  young  king's  assumption  of  the  reins 
of  government,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster's  party  were  restored  to 
power,  and  Chaucer  again  appeared  at  court.  On  the  12th  of 
July,  the  poet  was  appointed  to  the  valuable  office  of  clerk  of 

*  See  a  note  on  the  Man  of  Law's  Tale,  1.  4408,  and  Sir  H.  Nicola*'*  Lift 
if  Chaucer,  p.  39. 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  king's  works  at  the  palace  of  Westminster,  the  Tower  of 
London,  the  castle  of  Berkhamstead,  and  the  royal  manors  of 
Kenningtbn,  Eltliam.  Chvendon,  Sheen,  I>y  fleet,  Childern 
Langley,  and  Feckenham,  at  the  royal  lodge  of  Ilathenburgh  in 
the  New  Forest,  at  the  lodges  in  the  parks  of  Clarendon,  Chil- 
dern Langley,  and  Feckenham,  and  at  the  mews  for  the  king's 
falcons  at  Charing  Cross.  He  was  expressly  permitted  to  per- 
form his  duties  by  deputy,  and  his  salary  was  fixed  at  two 
shillings  a  day.  Chaucer  held  this  office,  however,  only  twc 
years,  having  been  dismissed  from  it  before  the  16th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1391,  but  the  cause  of  his  removal  is  unknown. 

During  the  latter  years  of  Richard's  reign  Chaucer  was  evi- 
dently suffering  from  poverty;  for  instead  of  receiving,  as  for- 
merly, his  pension  in  half-yearly  payments  when  due,  we  find 
him  constantly  taking  sums  in  advance  ;  and  as  those  were  not 
always  paid  into  his  own  hands  we  are  led  to  suppose  that  he 
was  laboring  under  sickness  as  well  as  want.  He  was  now  aged 
as  well  as  poor  and  needy  ;  but  the  accession  of  Henry  IV. 
came  suddenly  to  cast  a  gleam  of  brightness  on  his  declining 
days.  Within  four  days  aftei  he  :ame  to  the  throne,  Henry 
granted  him,  on  the  3d  of  October,  1399,  a  yearly  pension  of 
forty  marks,  in  addition  to  the  annuity  of  twenty  pounds 
which  had  been  given  him  by  King  Richard.  On  Christmas 
eve,  1399,  the  poet  obtained  the  lease  of  a  house  near  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  it  is  probable  that  he  closed  his  days. 
His  name  appears  in  the  issue  rolls,  as  continuing  to  receive 
his  pension,  until  the  1st  of  March,  1400,  when  it  was  received 
for  him  by  Henry  Somere,  the  clerk  of  the  receipt  of  the  ex- 
chequer, who  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  relation  of  the  "frere 
John  Somere,"  whose  calendar  is  mentioned  in  Chaucer's 
treatise  on  the  Astrolabe.  Chaucer  is  stated,  and  with  prob- 
able correctness,  in  an  epitaph  placed  in  1550  near  his  grave  in 
Westminster  Abbey  by  Nicholas  Hrigham  (a  poet  of  that  time), 
to  have  died  on  the  25th  of  October,  1400,  at  which  time,  ac- 
cording to  the  supposed  date  of  his  birth,  he  would  have 
reached  the  age  of  seventy -two. 

The  above  are  all  the  circumstances  of  importance  connected 
with  the  life  of  Chaucer  that  are  known  to  be  true.  Although, 
in  the  documents  in  which  they  are  found,  he  is  looked  upon 
only  as  an  actor  in  the  eventful  politics  of  the  day,  we  have 
other  evidence  that  his  poetical  talents  were  highly  appreciated 
by  his  contemporaries,  as  well  as  in  the  age  which  followed  his 
death.  P>y  the  English  poets  of  his  time,  Gower  and  Occleve, 
he  is  spoken  of  in  the  warmest  terms  of  praise  ;  and  that  his 
reputation  was  high  on  the  continent,  we  have  a  remarkable 
proof  in  a  ballad  addressed  to  him  by  the  French  poet  Eustace 
Deschamps,  which  has  been  printed  in  Sir  Harris  Nicolas'0 


INTRODUCTION. 


Life  and  in  my  Anecdota  Literana.  This  latter  document  shows 
us  aloo  that  Chaucer  was  on  terms  of  friendship  at  least  with 
the  Fmich  poets  of  his  day.  Occleve  not  only  paid  a  tribute 
of  affection  to  his  "  maister"  in  his  poetry,  but  he  painted  his 
portrait  in  the  margin  of  the  manuscript ;  and  this  portrait, 
evidently  a  good  one,  was  copied  at  different  times  and  in  dif- 
ferent forms,  and  was  no  doubt  the  original  of  all  the  portraits 
of  Chaucer  we  now  have.  The  best  copy  appears  to  be  that  ill 
the  Harleian  Ms.  No.  4866. 

THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Chaucer's  capital  work  is  undoubtedly  the  Canterbury  Tales. 
The  idea  of  thus  joining  together  a  number  of  stories  by  means 
of  a  connecting  narrative,  or  frame,  appears  to  have  originated 
in  the  East  ;  but  long  before  the  time  of  Chaucer  it  had  been 
made  popular  in  Europe  by  the  Diaclplina  Clcricalis  of  Peter 
Alfonsi  and  its  translations,  and  by  the  still  more  widely-spread 
romance  of  the  Sei-en  Sayes.  It  is  probable  that  the  latter,  of 
which  an  edition  has  been  published  by  the  Percy  Society,  gave 
Chaucer  the  hint  of  his  plot,  rather  than  the  Decameron,  with 
which  I  think  it  doubtful  if  Chaucer  were  acquainted.  But 
Chaucer's  plan  \vas  far  superior  to  that  of  any  of  the  similar 
collections  which  had  preceded  it,  not  only  for  the  opportuni- 
ty it  afforded  for  diversity  of  style  in  the  stories,  but  for  the 
variety  of  character  it  admitted  in  the  personages  to  be  intro- 
duced. The  general  introduction  to  the  Canterbury  Tales  is 
one  of  the  most  perfect  compositions  in  the  English  language. 

The  Cantt-rlury  Tale*  appear  to  have  been  the  compilation  of 
Chaucer's  latter  years  ;  for  they  con  tain  allusions  to  events  so  late 
as  the  year  1386,  and  if  (as  there  appears  little  room  for  doubt) 
there  are  allusions  in  the  Man  of  Laices  Talc  to  the  Confessio 
Arnaults  of  Gower,  this  part  of  the  work  must  have  been  com- 
posed at  a  still  later  period,  as  that  poem  is  stated  l>y  its  author 
to  have  been  written  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  Rich- 
ard II.,  f.  e.,  1392-3.  I  have  used  the  word  compilation,  because 
it  appears  to  me  not  only  evident  that  Chaucer  composed  the 
Canterbury  Talcs  not  continuously,  but  in  different  portion* 
which  were  afterwards  to  be  joined  together ;  but  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  he  worked  up  into  it  tales  which  had 
originally  been  written,  and  perhaps  published,  as  separate 
poems.  Chaucer  tells  us,  in  the  Legend  of  Good  Women,  that 
he  had  thus  published  the  Kniyhtes  Tale, — 

"  Al  the  love  of  Palatnon  and  Arcite, 
Of  Thebes,  though  the  storie  is  knowen  lite; " 

as  well  as  the  life  of   St.  Cecilia,  or  the  Second  Nonnct  Tale,— 
"  And  made  the  life  also  of  Saint  Cecile." 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  is  quite  clear  that  we  possess  the  Canterbury  Tale*  in  ac 
unfinished  form.  Tyvwhitt  makes  the  following  general  ob- 
servations on  this  subject : — 

"  The  general  plan  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  may  be  learned 
in  a  groat  measure  from  the  prologue  which  Chaucer  himself 
has  prefixed  to  thorn.  •  lie  supposes  there  that  a  company  of 
pilgrims  going  to  Canterbury  assemble  at  an  inn  in  Southwark, 
and  agree  that,  for  their  common  amusement  on  the  road,  each 
of  them  shall  tell  at  least  one  tale  in  going  to  Canterbury,  and 
another  in  coming  back  from  thence  ;  and  that  he  who  shall  tell 
the  best  tales  shall  be  treated  by  the  rest  with  a  supper  upon  their 
return  to  the  same  inn.  This  is,  shortly,  the  fable.  The  char- 
acters of  the  pilgrims  are  as  various  as,  at  that  time,  could  be 
found  in  the  various  departments  of  middle  life  ;  that  is,  in 
fact,  as  various  as  could,  with  any  probability,  be  brought  to- 
gether, so  as  to  form  one  company  ;  the  highest  and  the  lowest 
ranks  of  society  being  necessarily  excluded.  It  appears,  fur- 
ther, that  the  design  ot'  Chaucer  was  not  barely  to  recite  the  tales 
told  by  the  pilgrims,  but  also  to  describe  their  journey,  And 
all  the  remnant  of  their  pilgrimage  [ver.  720] ;  including,  prob- 
ably, their  adventures  at  Canterbury  as  well  as  upon  the  road. 
If  we  add,  that  the  tales,  besides  being  nicely  adapted  to  the 
characters  of  their  respective  rel&tors,  were  intended  to  be  con- 
nected together  by  suitable  introductions,  and  interspersed  with 
diverting  episodes,  and  that  the  greatest  part  of  them  was  to 
have  been  executed  in  verse,  we  shnll  have  a  tolerable  idea  of 
the  extent  and  difficulty  of  the  whole  undertaking  ;  and  admir- 
ing, as  we  must,  the  vigor  of  that  genius  which  in  an  advanced 
age  could  begin  so  vast  a  work,  we  shall  rather  lament  than  be 
surprised  that  it  has  been  left  imperfect.  In  truth,  if  we  com- 
pare those  parts  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  of  which  we  are  in  posses- 
sion, with  the  sketch  which  has  been  just  given  of  the  intended 
whole,  it  will  be  found  that  more  than  one-half  is  wanting. 
The  prologue  we  have,  periiaps,  nearly  complete,  and  the  great- 
est pai  t  of  the  journey  to  Canterbury;  but  not  a  word  of  the 
transactions  at  Canterbury,  or  of  the  journey  homeward,  or  of 
the  epilogue,  which,  we  may  suppose,  was  to  have  concluded 
the  work,  with  an  account  of'  the  pri/.e  supper  and  the  separa- 
tion of  the  company.  Even  in  that  part  which  we  have  of  the 
journey  to  Canterbury,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take  notice  of 
certain  defects  and  inconsistencies,  which  can  only  be  accounted 
for  upon  the  supposition  that  the  work  was  never  finished  by 
the  author." 

After  a  careful  consideration  of  this  question,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  Chaucer  not  only  left  his  grand  poem  iu  an  un- 
finished state,  but  that  he  left  it  in  detached  portions  only  par- 
tially arranged,  and  that  it  was  reduced  to  its  present  foruc 


after  his  death.  This  would  explain  satisfactorily  the  groat 
variations  of  the  manuscripts  in  the  order  of  the  tales,  and  the 
evident  want  of  the  connecting  prologue  in  more  than  one  in 
stance.  All  the  manuscripts  agree  in  the  order  of  the  tales  of 
the. knight,  miller,  reve,  and  cook,  and  in  placing  them  imme- 
diately after  the  general  prologue,  and  it  is  therefore  probable 
that  they  were  left  in  that  state  by  Chaucer.  The  Cookes  Tale 
was  evidently  left  unfinished  by  the  author,  and  it  was  prob- 
ably the  -person  who  reduced  the  whole  to  its  present  form  that 
first  introduced  the  tale  of  Gamelyn,  to  fill  up  what  he  sup- 
posed a  lacuna,  but  whence  he  obtained  this  tale  it  is  difficult 
to  conjecture.  Tyrwhitt  is  so  entirely  wrong  in  saying  that  this 
tale  is  not  found  in  any  manuscript  of  the  first  authority,  that 
it  occurs  in  the  Harleian  Ms.  from  which  the  present  text  is 
taken,  and  which  I  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  to  be  the  best 
and  oldest  manuscript  of  Chaucer  T  have  yet  met  with.  The 
style  of  Gamelyn  would  lead  us  to  judge  that  it  is  not  Chaucer's, 
but  we  can  only  reconcile  this  judgment  with  its  being  found 
so  universally  in  the  manuscripts,  by  means  of  the  supposition 
of  the  posthumous  arrangement  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  and 
its  insertion  by  the  arranger.  I  have  printed  the  tale  of  Game- 
lyn from  the  same  Harleian  Ms.  which  has  been  the  base  of 
my  text  of  the  remainder  of  the  poem  ;  but  I  have  distinguished 
it  from  the  rest  by  printing  it  in  smaller  type,  both  on  account 
of  the  apparently  well-founded  doubts  of  its  being  a  genuine 
work  of  Chaucer,  and  in  order  not  to  interfere  with  the  num- 
bering of  the  lines  in  Tyrwhitt's  edition,  which  I  have  thought 
it  advisable  to  preserve. 

After  the  Cookes  Tale,  the  order  of  the  tales  differs  very 
much  in  different  manuscripts,  until  we  arrive  at  the  tale  of  the 
Manciple,  with  which,  and  the  Parson's  Tale,  they  all  conclude. 
In  the  present  text,  I  have  strictly  followed  the  Harleian  manu- 
script, which  agrees  nearly  with  the  order  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt. 
The  Man  of  Lawex  Tale  is  not  connected  by  its  prologue  with 
the  tale  which  precedes  it  ;  and  the  Wyf  of  Bathes  Tale  evi- 
dently wants  a  few  introductory  lines,  which  Chaucer  would 
have  added  had  he  lived  to  complete  the  poem.  It  is  not  im- 
probable that  in  the  state  in  which  he  left  it.  the  Wife  of  Bath'? 
prologue  was  the  beginning  of  a  portion  of  manuscript  which 
contained  the  tales  of  the  Wife  of  Bath,  the  Friar,  and  the 
Sompnour  ;  and  perhaps  those  of  the  Clerk,  the  Merchant,  and 
the  Squier.  formed  another  portion.  This  latter  portion  ap- 
pears; to  have  been  left  unfinished,  for  the  Squi/'res  Talc  breaks 
off  abruptly  in  the  middle,  which  is  the  more  to  be  regretted, 
as  it  is  one  of  Chaucer's  best  stories,  and  it  is  a  story  not  found 
elsewhere.  It  a  [.pears  by  its  prologue,  that  the  Frankeleynet 
Tale  waa  intended  to  follow  the  Squieres  Tale.  The  Second 


INTRODUCTION.  9 


Nonncs  Talc,  or  the  life  of  St.  Cecilia,  has  no  prologue,  and  ap- 
pears to  be  in  the  same  form  in  which  it  was  originally  written 
for  separate  publication.  The  prologue  to  the  Chanoncs  Ye- 
mannes  Tale  shows  that  this  latter  was  intended  to  follow  the 
Life  of  St.  Cec.'lia.  These  two  tales  are  placed,  in  Tyrwhitt's 
edition,  after  the  tale  of  the  Nun's  Priest.  Of  the  tales  of  the 
Doctour  and  the  Pardoner  we  can  only  say  that  they  were  clear- 
ly intended  to  come  together,  though  they  are  differently  placed 
in  manuscripts  with  respect  to  those  which  precede  and  follow. 
The  tales  of  the  Shipman,  the  Prioress,  Chaucer's  two  tales  of 
Sir  Thopas  and  Melibeus,  the  Monk's  tale,  and  the  tale  of  the 
Nun's  Priest,  are  all  connected  together  by  their  prologues,  and 
appear  to  have  occupied  another  portion  of  Chaucer's  manu- 
script, which  also  was  apparently  defective  at  the  end,  the  pro- 
logue which  was  to  have  connected  it  with  the  next  tale  being 
unfinished.  The  prologue  to  the  tale  of  the  Manciple  contains 
no  reference  to  a  preceding  tale ;  but  from  the  way  in  which 
the  Cook  is  introduced  in  it,  it  would  seem  to  have  been  com- 
posed at  a  time  when  Chaucer  did  not  intend  to  introduce  the 
Cook's  tale  after  that  of  the  Keve.  The  Parson's  tale  is  con- 
nected by  its  prologue  with  that  of  the  Manciple,  and  follows 
it  in  all  the  manuscripts.  The  old  printed  editions  after  1542, 
inserted  between  these  a  poem,  which  was  evidently  misplaced, 
under  the  title  of  the  I'/oimmn's  Tale,  but  on  what  authority  it 
was  placed  there  we  are  totally  ignorant.  The  "  retractation  " 
at  the  end  of  the  I^arsmies  Tale  was  perhaps  introduced  by  the 
person  who  arranged  the  text  after  Chaucer's  death. 

With  the  tale,  or  rather  discourse,  of  the  Parson,  Chaucer 
brings  his  pilgrims  to  Canterbury  ;  but  his  original  plan  evi- 
dently included  the  journey  back  to  London.  Some  writer, 
within  a  few  years  after  Chaucer's  death,  undertook  to  continue 
the  work,  and  produced  a  ludicrous  account  of  the  proceedings 
of  the  pilgrims  at  Canterbury,  and  the  story  of  Beryn,  which 
was  to  be  the  first  of  the  stories  told  on  their  return.  These 
are  printed  by  Urry  from  a  manuscript  of  which  1  have  not  been 
able  to  trace  the  subsequent  history,  and,  if  it  should  not  pre- 
viously be  found.  I  shall  reprint  them  from  Urry's  edition, 
correcting  the  more  apparent  errors,  for  Urry's  faithlessness  to 
fa5a  manuscript  is  quite  extraordinary. 

The  immense  popularity  of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Talcs  is 
proved  by  the  number  of  manuscript  copies  still  remaining.  It 
was  one  of  the  first  books  printed  in  England,  and  went  through 
a  considerable  number  of  editions  before  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. For  the  information  of  those  who  are  interested  in  the 
biographical  portion  of  a  subject  like  this,  I  give  Tyrwnitt's 
history  of  the  printed  editions  of  the  Canterbury  Tales, 
some  of  the  note*. 


10  INTRODUCTION. 


"  The  art  of  printing  had  been  invented  and  exercised  foj 
a  considerable  time,  in  most  countries  of  Europe,  before  the  art 
of  criticism  was  called  in  to  superintend  and  direct  its  opera- 
tions. It  is,  therefore,  much  more  to  the  honor  of  out 
meritorious  countryman,  William  Caxton,  that  he  chose  to 
make  the  Canterbury  Tales  one  of  the  earliest  productions  of 
his  press,  than  it  can  be  to  his  discredit  that  he  printed  them 
very  incorrectly.  He  probably  took  the  first  Ms.  that  he  could 
procure  to  print  from,  and  it  happened,  unluckily,  to  be  one  of 
the  worst  in  all  respects  that  he  could  possibly  have  met  with. 
The  very  few  copies  of  this  edition  which  are  now  remaining  * 
have  no  date,  but  Mr.  Ames  supposes  it  to  have  been  printed 
in  1475  or  G. 

"It  is  still  more  to  the  honor  of  Caxton,  that  when  he  was 
informed  of  the  imperfections  of  his  edition,  he  very  readily 
undertook  a  second,  '  for  to  satisfy  the  author  '  fas  he  says  him- 
self), '  whereas  tofore  by  ignorance  he  had  erred  in  hurting  and 
diffamin.u-  his  book.'  His  whole  account  of  this  matter,  in  the 
preface  to  the  second  edition,  :s  so  clear  and  ingenuous,  that  I 
shall  insert  it  below  in  his  own  words,  f  This  edition  is  also 

*  "The  late  Mr.  West  was  so  obliging  as  to  lend  me  a  complete  copy  of 
this  edition,  which  is  now,  as  I  have  heard,  in  the  King's  Library.  There  is 
another  complete  copy  in  the  library  of  Merton  College,  which  is  illuminated, 
and  has  a  ruled  line  under  every  printed  one,  to  give  it  the  appearance,  I 
suppose,  of  a  Ms.  Neither  of  these  books,  though  seemingly  complete,  has 
any  preface  or  advertisement." 

t  "  Preface  to  Caxton's  second  edition  from  a  copy  in  the  Library  of  St. 
John's  College,  Oxford.  Ames,  p.  55.— Whiche  book  1  have  dylygently  over- 
sea, and  duly  examyned  to  the  ende  that  it  be  made  accordyug  unto  his  owen 
makyng  ;  for  I  fynde  many  of  the  sayd  bookes,  whiche  wryters  have 
abrydgyu  it,  and  many  thynges  left  out,  and  in  some  places  have  sette  eer- 
tayn  versys  that  he  never  made  ne  sette  in  hys  booke,  of  whyche  bookes  so 
incorrecte  was  one  broughte  to  me  vi.  yere  passyd,  whiche  I  supposed  had  b  jn 
veray  true  and  corrocte,  and  accordyig  to  the  same  1  dyde  do  emprynte  a 
oertayn  nomber  of  them,  whyche  anon  were  solde  to  many  and  dyverse  gen- 
tyhnen,  of  whom  one  gentylman  cam  to  me.  and  sayd  that  this  book  was  not 
according  in  many  places  unto  the  book  that  Gefferey  Chaucer  had  made. 
To  whom  I  answered,  that  I  had  made  it  accordyng  to  my  copye,  and  by  me 
was  nothy ng  added  ne  mynusshyd.  Thenne  he  sayd,  he  knewe  a  book  whyche 
hys  fader  had  much  lovyd,  that  was  very  trewe,  and  accordyng  unto  his  owon 
tirst  book  by  hym  made ;  and  sayd  more,  yf  I  wold  emprynte  it  agayn,  h<? 
wold  gete  me  the  same  book  for  a  copye.  How  be  it  he  wyst  well  that  liyi 
fader  wold  not  gladly  departe  fro  it.  To  whom  I  said,  in  caas  that  he  coude 
goto  me  suche  a  booke,  trewe  and  correcte,  yet  I  would  ones  endovoyre  me  to 
emprynte  it  agayn,  for  to  satisfy  the  auctour,  where  as  tofore  bjr  yguoraunce 
I  erryd  in  hurtyng  and  dyilamyng  his  book  in  dyverce  places,  in  setting  in 
jomine  thynges  that  he  never  sayde  ne  made,  and  leving  out  many  thynge* 
ihat  he  made,  whyche  ben  requysite  to  be  sette  in  it.  And  thus  we  fyK  at 
Kcccrd.  ftn.1  he  full  gentylly  gate  Of  hys  fader  the  said  book,  and  delyvered 
It  to  mi,  by  whiche  I  have  corrected  my  book,  as  heere  after  allo  alonge  b> 
the  ayde  of  almighty  God  ahal  folowe,  whom  I  humbly  besecha,  &c. 

"  Mr.  Lewis,  in  his  Life  of  Caxton,  p.  104,  has  published  a  minute  account 
«f  the  contents  of  this  edition  from  a  cony  in  the  Library  ol  Magd.tlen  Col- 
lege. Cambridge,  but  without  deciding  whether  i I  is  the  first  or  the  second 
edition. 

"  It  is  undoubtedly  the  second  ;  but  the  preface  is  lost.  There  ia  on  lin 
perfect  copy  of  this  editi~'i  in  the  .Museum,  and  another  i:i  the  library  c.f  th« 
Koyal  Society.  Both  together  would  not  make  a  complete  one." 


INTRODUCTION.  11 


without  date,  except  that  the  preface  informs  us  that  it  was 
printed  six  years  after  the  first. 

4i  Aroes  mentions  an  edition  of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales, 
*  Collected  by  William  Caxton,  and  printed  by  Wynken  da 
Worde  at  Westiuestre,  in  1-195.  Folio.'  He  does  not  appear 
to  have  seen  it  himself,  nor  have  I  ever  met  with  any  other 
authority  for  its  existence:  which,  however,  I  do  not  mean  i-o 
dispute.  If  there  was  such  an  edition,  we  may  be  tolerably 
sure  that  it  was  only  a  copy  of  Caxton's. 

"  This  was  certainly  the  case  of  both  Pynson's  editions.     Hs 
has  prefixed  to  both  the  introductory  part  of  Caxton's  Prohemye 
to  his  second  edition,   without  the  least  alteration.     In   wh'at 
follows,  he  says  that  he   purposes  to  imprint  his  book  [in  the 
first  edition]  by  a  copy  of  the  saitl  Master  C«xton  and  [in  the 
second]  by  a  copy  of  William    Caxton's  imprinting.*     That  the 
copy,  mentioned  in  both  these  passages,  by  which  Pynson  pur- 
posed to  imprint,  was  really  Caxton's  second  edition,  is  evident 
from  the   slightest   comparison    of  the  three  books  :  Pynson's 
first  edition  has  no  date,  but  is  supposed  (upon  good  grounds,  I 
think)   to  have  been  printed  not  long  after   1491,  the  year  of 
Caxton's  death.     Hi8  second  edition  f  is  dated  ic  1526,  and  was 
the  first  in  which  a  collection  of  some  other  pieces  of  Chaucer 
was  added  to  the  Canterbury  Tales. 

"  The  next  edition  which  I  have  been  able  to  meet  with  was 
printed  by  Thomas  Godfray  in  1532.  If  this  be  not  the  very 
edition  which  Leland  speaks  of  as  printed  by  Berthelette,  with 
the  assistance  of  Mr.  William  Thynne  (as  I  rather  suspect  it 
is),  we  may  be  assured  that  it  was  copied  from  that.  Mr. 
Ihy nne's  dedication  to  Henry  VIII.  stands  at  the  head,  of  it  : 
and  the  great  number  of  Chaucer's  works  never  before  pub- 
lished which  appear  in  it,  fully  entitles  it  to  the  commendations 
which  have  always  been  given  to  Mr.  Thynne's  edition  on  that 
account.  Accordingly  it  was  several  times  reprinted  as  the 
standard  edition  of  Chaucer's  works,  without  any  material 
alteration,  except  the  insertion  of  the  Plowman's  tale  in  1512. 
"  As  my  business  here  is  solely  with  the  Canterbury  Talti, 

•  "  Sea  the  Prohemies  to  Pynson's  first  and  second  editions  in  the  preface 
*o  Urry's  Chaucer.  There  is  a  complete  copy  of  Pynson's  first  edition  In  th« 
library  of  the  Koyal  Society." 

t  "I  venture  to  call  thie  Pynson'b  second  edition,  though  AraeB  (from 
•oine  notes  of  Bagford)  speaks  of  editions  in  1520  and  1522.  He  does  not  ap- 
pear to  have  Been  them  himself.  Mr.  West  had  a  copy  of  the  edition  of  1526, 
in  which  the  name  of  the  printer  and  the  date  of  the  impression  are  regularly 
set  down  at  the  end  of  the  Canterbury  Tales.  After  that  follow  '  Troilus  and 
Orcseide '  and  '  the  Boke  of  Fame,'  at  the  end  of  which  last  '.s  a  note,  copied 
from  Gaxton's  edition  of  the  same  book,  with  this  svUHtion,  And  here  fMwv- 
eth  anothrr  of  his  workes.  But  in  Mr.  West's  copy  nothing  followed.  The 
writer  of  the  preface  to  Kd.  Urr.  seems  to  have  had  the  use  of  a  copy  ot  thli 
edition  in  1526.  which  contained  some  other  pieces  of  Chaucei'g,  and  B«T«r»J 
by  other  hands.  See  the  preface  t .•>  Kd.  Urr 


12  INTRODUCTION. 


I  shall  take  no  notice  of  the  several  miscellaneous  pieces,  by 
Chaucer  and  others,  which  were  added  to  them  by  Mr.  Thynne 
in  his  edition,  and  afterwards  by  Stowe  and  Speght  in  the  edi- 
tions of  1561,  1597,  and  10U2.  With  respect  to  the  Canterbury 
Ttiles,  I  am  under  a  necessity  of  observing,  that  upon  the  whole 
they  received  no  advantage  from  the  edition  of  1532.  Its  ma- 
terial variations  from  Caxton's  second  edition  are  all,  I  think, 
for  the  worse.  It  confounds  the  order  of  the  Slider's  and  the 
Frankelein's  tales,  which  C  ax  ton,  in  his  sccuiul  edition,  had  set 
right.  It  gives  the  Frankelein's  prologue  to  the  Merchant,  in 
addition  to  his  own  proper  prologue.  It  produces  for  the  tir.st 
time  two  prologues,  the  one  to  the  Doctoiir's,  and  the  other  to  the 
S.'tipman's  tale,  which  are  both  evidently  spurious;  and  it 
brings  back  the  lines  of  ribaldry  in  the  Merchant's  tale,  which 
Caxton,  in  his  second  edition,  had  rejected  upon  the  authority 
of  his  good  Ms. 

"  However,  this  edition  of  1532,  with  all  its  imperfections, 
had  the  luck,  as  I  have  said,  to  be  considered  as  the  standard 
edition,  and  to  be  copied,  not  only  by  the  book-sellers,  in  their 
several  editions*  of  1542,  1540,  1555,  and  1501,  but  also  by  Mr. 
Speght  (the  first  editor  in  form,  after  Mr.  Thynne,  who  set  his 
name  to  his  work)  in  1597  and  1002.  In  the  dedication  to  Sir 
Robert  Cecil,  prefixed  to  this  last  edition,  he  speaks  indeed  of 
having 'reformed  the  whole  work,  both  by  old  written  copies 
and  by  Ma.  William  Thynnes  praiseworthy  labours ; '  but  I  can- 
not find  that  he  has  departed  in  any  material  point  from  those 
editions  which  1  have  supposed  to  be  derived  from  Mr. 
Thyn ne's.  In  the  very  material  points  above  mentioned,  in 
which  those  editions  vary  from  Caxton's  second,  he  has  fol- 
lowed them.  Nor  have  I  observed  any  such  verbal  varieties  as 
would  induce  one  to  believe  that  he  had  consulted  any  good  Ms. 
They  who  have  read  his  preface  will  probably  not  regret  that 
he  did  not  do  more  towards  correcting  the  text  of  Chaucer. 

"  In  this  state  the  Canterbury  Tales  remained  f  till  the  edi- 

•  "  There  are  some  other  editions  mentioned  by  Ames,  without  date  ;  but 
It  is  prcbable  that,  upon  inspection,  they  would  appear  to  be  one  or  other  o? 
the  editions  whose  dates  are  here  given.  It  geeius  to  have  been  usual  to  print 
books  in  partnership,  end  for  each  partner  to  print  his  own  name  t-o  his 
share  of  the  impression.  See  Ames,  p.  252.  A  Bible  is  said  to  be  printed  in 
I"i51,  by  Nicholas  llili — '  at  the  cost  and  charges  of  certayne  honest  meunu  <>' 
the  occupacyon,  whose  names  be  upon  their  bokt's-'  " 

t  "  It  may  be  proper  just  to  take  notice,  that  Mr.  Speght's  edition  was  ro 
printed  in  1087,  wiLh  an  advertisement  at  the  end,  in  which  the  editor  pro- 
i ended  to  publish  from  a  Ms.  the  conclusion  of  the  Coke's  Tale,  and  a/so  of 
Uie  Squires  Tale,  which  in  the  printed  books  are  said  to  be  lost  or  never  lin- 
ishid  b>i  the  author.  These  conclusions  may  be  seen  in  the  Preface  to  td. 
Urr.  Whoever  the  editor  was,  I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  that  they  ar« 
both  really  to  be  found  in  Ms.  Tte  first  is  to  be  found  in  Ms.  B.  a.  and  the 
•jtlier  in  Ms.  1>.  6.  from  which  He&rne  has  also  printed  it,  as  a  choice  discov- 
sry.  in  his  letiei  to  Bagford.  App.  to  K.  G.  p.  601.  If  1  thought  the  reader 
hail  any  relitb  for  such  supplements  to  Chaucer,  I  ci'uld  treat  him  from  Ms. 
15.  a.  wr.ii  at  lenst  thirty  more  lines,  which  have  been  inserted  in  different 
pttrts  ot  Itio  (.'oak's  Tale,  by  tho  sitine  hand  t>i£.i  wrote  this  Conclusion." 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

lion  undertaken  by  Mr.  Urry,  which  was  published,  some  years 
after  his  death,  in  1721.  I  shall  say  but  little  of  that  edition, 
as  a  v«;ry  fair  and  full  account  of  it  is  to  be  seen  in  the  modest 
and  sensible  preface  prefixed  to  it  by  Mr.  Timothy  Thomas, 
upon  whom  the  charge  of  publishing  Chaucer  devolved,  or 
rather  was  imposed,  after  Mr.  Urry's  death.  The  strange 
license  in  which  Mr.  Urry  appears  to  have  indulged  himself,  of 
lengthening  and  shortening  Chaucer's  words  according  to  his 
own  fancy,  and  of  even  adding  words  of  his  own,  without 
giving  his  readers  the  least  notice,  has  made  the  text  of  Chau- 
cer in  his  edition  by  far  the  worst  that  was  ever  published." 

PLAN   OF   THE    PRESENT    EDITION. 

During  the  latter  half  of  the  twelfth  century  and  the  earlier 
part  of  the  thirteenth,  the  language  spoken  by  our  Saxon  fore- 
fathers was  rapidly  breaking  up,  and  losing  its  original  gram- 
matical inflections,  and  much  of  its  characteristic  phraseology. 
Books  or  songs  written  in  English  during  this  period  were  in- 
tended for  the  edification  of  the  lower  classes,  or  for  the  bour- 
geoisie, which  still  retained  its  Saxon  habits.  Great  changes 
in  language  are  generally  coeval  with  political  movements  and 
convulsions,  and  the  character  of  our  language  was  completely 
changed  by  the  baronial  wars  of  the  thirteenth  century,  which 
brought  into  prominence  the  Anglo-Saxon  portion  of  the  popu- 
lation, and  made  its  language  fashionable  in  high  society.  The 
consequence  was,  that  it  went  through  further  changes  of  form, 
and  became  largely  mixed  with  words  having  a  French  (or 
Anglo-Norman)  origin.  About  the  end  of  rtie  reign  of  Edward 
I.  the  English  language  took  a  definite  shape,  which  continued 
during  the  fourteenth  century  with  very  little  alteration  in  its 
grammatical  forms,  and  the  only  alterations  in  other  respects 
arising  from  words  becoming  obsolete,  and  from  the  facility  with 
whicli  French  or  Anglo-Norman  words  were  adopted  or  received 
at  the  will  of  the  author,  and  according  to  the  class  of  society 
n  whicli  he  moved  and  for  which  he  wrote.  This  arose  from 
the  circumstance  that  English  and  the  form  of  French  spoken 
here  were  co-existent  in  our  island  as  the  languages  of  common 
life.  This  form  of  the  English  language  was  that  of  the 
author  of  Pirn  Ploughman  and  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer  ;  the  fortnei 
representing  the  popular  feelings  and  containing  fewest 
French  words,  while  Chaucer,  as  the  poet  of  the  higher  society, 
uses  French  words  in  much  greater  abundance.  In  our  lan- 
guage of  the  present  day  we  have  lost  as  much  of  the  English 
of  Piers  Ploughman  as  we  have  of  the  French  of  the  Canterbury 
Tales. 

The  general  character  and  the  grammatical  constructions  oi 


14  INTRODUCTION. 


the  English  of  the  fourteenth  century  were  preserved  during 
the  opening  years  of  the  fifteenth  ;  but  they  soon  began  to 
break  up  more  rapidly  even  than  in  the  thirteenth  century,  un- 
til, at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  our  language  took  nearly 
its  modern  form,  the  orthography  excepted. 

The  language  in  which  any  man  wrote  could  only  be  pre- 
served correctly  in  manuscripts  written  in  his  own  time,  or  very 
near  h  ;  for  we  find  by  experience  that  copyists  invariably  al- 
tered what  they  copied  to  the  form  of  the  language  at  the  time 
in  which  they  wrote,  and,  which  is  still  more  embarrassing,  to 
the  local  dialect  of  the  county  in  which  they  lived.  It  is  evi- 
dent,«therefore,  that  the  plan  of  forming  the  text  of  any  work 
of  the  periods  of  which  we  are  speaking,  from  a  number  of  dif- 
ferent manuscripts,  written  at  different  times  and  different 
places,  is  the  most  absurd  plan  wrhich  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 
Yet  this  was  the  method  professedly  followed  by  Tyrwhitt,  in 
forming  a  text  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  of  Chaucer.  He  even  did 
W7orse  :  for  he  seems  to  have  taken  for  his  foundation  merely  one 
of  the  old  editions,  printed  at  a  time  when  all  the  grammatical 
forms  were  lost,  changing  words  or  lines  for  others  which  pleased 
him  better  from  any  manuscript  which  happened  to  contain 
them.  It  is  true  that  he  has  given  a  list  of  manuscripts,  in  which 
he  points  out  those  which  he  considers  the  best,  and  which  he 
followed  in  preference  to  others  ;  but  Tyrwhitt  was  so  entirely 
unacquainted  with  the  palgeographical  and  philological  knowl- 
edge necessary  for  the  appreciation  of  them,  that  he  places 
among  his  manuscripts  of  "highest  authority,"  copies  on  paper 
of  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  while  excellent  man- 
uscripts of  an  earliet  date  are  looked  upon  with  indifference. 
The  more  caution  is  necessary  in  this  respect  with  the  text  of 
Chaucer,  because  the  greater  number  of  the  manuscripts  are  of 
the  latter  part  or  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  the  lan- 
guage was  very  much  changed  from  that  of  Chaucer's  time. 

Tyrwhitt's  entire  ignorance  of  the  grammar  of  the  language 
of  Chaucer  is  exhibited  in  almost  every  line,  few  of  which  could 
possibly  have  been  written  by  the  poet  as  he  has  printed  them. 
It  need  only  be  stated,  as  an  instance  of  this,  that  in  the  preter- 
ites of  what  the  modern  Teutonic  philologists  term  the  strong 
ferbs  (which  our  common  grammarians  distinguish  by  the  un- 
fortunate title  of  i- regular  verbs),  Tyrwhitt  has  invariably 
] 'laced  a  verb  in  the  plural  with  a  noun  in  the  singular.  This 
is  explained  by  the  circumstance  that,  in  our  modern  form  of 
the  language,  the  ancient  plural  of  the  preterite  has  been 
adopted  for  singular  as  well  as  plural.  Examples  of  this  (in 
the  verbs  to  bear,  of  which  the  correct  forms  were,  sing,  bar,  p'. 
bare  ;  to  come,  s.  cam.  pi.  come  ;  to  swear,  s.  swor,  pi.  swore  ;  In 
girc,  s.  gaf,  pi.  gave  ;  to  xpe.ak,  s.  spak,  pi.  spake  ;  tnrise,  s.  ros, 


TNTRODUCTJON.  13 


roos,  pi.  rose  ;  to*  take,  s.  took,  pi.  toke;  &c.)  occur  almost  in 
every  sentence.  In  the  verb  to  sif,  of  which  the  pret.  s.  and  pi. 
was  sette,  Tyrwhitt  has  substituted  set,  a  form  which  did  not 
exist ;  and  in  the  same  manner,  in  the  verb  to  creep.,  he  has 
given  pret.  s.  crept,  when  the  forms  were  s.  creep,  crope,  pi. 
orope.  In  the  same  manner,  Tyrwhitt  has  in  most  instances 
substituted  the  plural  of  adjectives  for  the  singular,  and  the  in- 
flected cases  of  nouns  for  the  nominative,  besides  an  infinity  oi 
errors  in  the  orthographical  forms  of  the  language. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  is  clear  that,  to  form  a  satis- 
factory text  of  Chaucer,  we  must  give  up  the  printed  editions, 
and  fall  back  upon  the  manuscripts  ;  and  that,  instead  okbun- 
dling  them  all  together,  we  must  pick  out  one  best  manuscript 
which  also  is  one  of  those  nearest  to  Chaucer's  time.  The  latter 
circumstance,  is  absolutely  necessary,  if  we  would  reproduce  the 
language  and  versification  of  the  author.  At  the  same  time,  it 
cannot  but  be  acknowledged,  that  the  earliest  manuscript  might 
possibly  be  very  incorrect  and  incomplete,  from  the  ignorance 
or  negligence  of  the  scribe  wlx>  copied  it.  This,  however,  is 
fortunately  not  the  case  with  regard  to  Chaucer's  Canterbury 
Tales. 

The  Harleian  manuscript,  No.  7334,  is  by  far  the  best  manu- 
script of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales  that  I  have  yet  examined, 
in  regard  both  to  antiquity  and  correctness.  The  handwriting 
is  one  which  would  at  first  sight  be  taken  by  an  experienced 
schdar  for  that  of  the  latter  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and 
it  must  have  been  written  within  a  few  years  after  1400,  and 
therefore  soon  after  Chaucer's  death  and  the  publication  of  the 
Canterbury  Tales.  Its  language  has  very  little,  if  any,  appear- 
ance of  local  dialect ;  and  the  text  is  in  general  extremely  good, 
the  variations  from  Tyrwhitt  being  usually  for  the  better. 
Tyrwhitt  appears  not  to  have  made  much  use  of  this  manu- 
script, and  he  has  not  even  classed  it  among  those  to  which 
most  credit  is  due. 

This  manuscript  I  have  adopted  as  the  text  of  the  present 
edition  ;  the  alterations  I  have  ventured  to  make  in  it  being 
comparatively  few,  and  only  such  as  appeared  absolutely  neces- 
ary.  I  hardly  need  inform  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  con- 
ulting  medieval  manuscripts,  in  whatever  language  they  may 
be  written,  that  none  of  them  are  clerically  accurate.  Some  of 
them  are  literally  filled  with  errors,  which  it  requires  very  little 
knowledge  to  perceive  and  correct.  Many  errors  of  this  kind 
are  found  in  the  Harleian  manuscript  of  the  Canterbury  Tale* 
of  which  I  am  speaking,  and  I  have  not  felt  the  least  hesita- 
tion in  correcting  them  by  comparison  with  another  manu- 
bcript.  As  an  example  of  the  kind  of  error  to  which  I  allude 
it  may  bo  stated  that  11.  3779,  3~80  stand  thus  in  the  M». : — 


16  INTRODUCTION. 


*  Of  storlal  thing  that  toucheth  gentile**, 
And  eek  more  ryaltt,  and  holyueiwe  " 

I  have  without  hesitation  followed  another  Ms.  :n  correcting 
the  two  words  in  italics  to  morality ;  and  in  cases  like  this  1 
havo  not  thought  it  necessary  to  load  the  book  with  notes  point- 
ing out  the  alterations.  In  other  instances,  where  a  reading  in 
the  Harl.  Ms.,  although  affording  a  tolerable  meaning,  has  ap- 
peared to  me  a  decided  bad  one,  I  have  changed  it  for  a  better, 
•.'ways  (when  there  is  room  for  the  least  doubt)  giving  the  orig- 
inal reading  of  the  manuscript  in  a  foot-note.  For  this  pur- 
pose, 1  have  collated  the  text  throughout  with  the  Lansdowne 
Ms.  No.  851,  which  appears  to  be,  of  those  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum, next  in  antiquity  and  value  to  the  Ms.  Harl.  ;  and  I  have 
also  collated  it,  as  far  as  the  Wyf  of  Bathes  Tale,  with  two 
manuscripts  in  the  public  library  of  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, bearing  the  shelf-marks  Mm.  2.  5.  (which  I  have  quoted 
as  C.  1),  and  li.  3,  20  (C.  2)  ;  but  I  found  so  little  real  use  from 
these  latter  manuscripts,  that  I  have  thought  it  unnecessary  to 
collate  them  further.  In  general,  I  have  reaped  little  advan- 
,tage  from  collating  a  number  of  manuscripts. 

Tyrwhitt  s  want  of  philological  knowledge  has  rendered  hig 
text  unhannonious  as  well  as  ungrammatical.  The  final  e, 
most  distinctly  pronounced,  and  which  was  most  necessary  to 
the  metrical  completeness  of  the  line,  was  the  one  which  marked 
grammatical  inflections  and  adverbial  forms  ;  and  this  he  has 
constantly  dropped,  and  he  has  therefore  printed  an  imperfect 
l:,ne,  or  given  it  supposed  perfection  by  adding  a  word  or  plac- 
ing a  final  e  to  a  word  which  ought  not  to  have  it.  I  may  ob- 
serve, that  it  was  a  constant  rule  to  elide  the  final  c  in  pronun- 
ciation, when  it  preceded  a  word  beginning  with  a  vowel  or 
with  the  letter  h,  and  that  this  was  the  source  of  frequent  errors 
of  the  scribes,  who,  pronouncing  the  lines  as  they  copied  them, 
omitted  sometimes  to  write  the  letter  which  they  did  not  pro- 
nounce, and  thus  made  a  grammatical  error,  which,  however, 
every  reader  at  the  time  could  see  and  correct.  Instances  of  this 
kind  of  error  are  not  of  (infrequent occurrence  in  the  Harl.  Ms.  of 
the  Canterbury  Tales ;  but  1  have  resisted  the  temptation  to  cor- 
rect them,  because  it  appeared  to  me  dangerous,  in  our  present 
knowledge  of  medieval  English,  to  presume  too  far  on  our  ac- 
quaintance with  every  nicety  of  the  grammar  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  In  many  cases,  however,  these  are  certainly  error* 
Thus,  in  1.  5911:— 

"  Havt)  thou  ynough,  what  tliar  the  recch  or  care." 

W"»  ought  to  read  recche,  which  is  the  infinitive  of  the  verb 
For  the  same  reason,  in  1.  0128, — 

:  Aud  for  to  u>tt!li  in  March,  A»oril,  an!  M»T  " 


tNTRODUCTfON.  It 


we  should  read  walke.  In  hoth  these  instances  the  final  e  has 
been  lost  before  a  word  beginning  with  a  vowel.  The  older 
termination  of  the  infinitive  was  in  en,  but  the  ;»  was  subse- 
quently dropped,  and  during  the  fourteenth  century,  and  earlier 
part  of  the  fifteenth,  the  two  terminations  of  the  infinitive  in 
en  and  e  were  used  indiscriminately,  at  the  will  or  caprice  ol 
the  writer.  In  poetry  before  a  word  beginning  with  a  conso- 
nant, it  was  immaterial  which  form  was  used,  but  before  a 
word  beginning  with  a  vowel,  or  witli  A,  the  n  might  be  drop! 
or  retained  accordingly  as  the  final  syllable  of  the  word  was  n> 
quired  or  not  for  the  metre.  In  these  cases  the  scribe  has  net 
unfrequently  omitted  the  n  when  it  ought  to  have  been  retained : 
but  probably  the  thing  was  so  well  underatood,  that  it  mat- 
tered little  how  it  was  written,  the  reader  using  the  n  or  not 
as  the  verse  required  it,  whether  he  saw  it  in  the  manuscript  or 
not. 

With  the  exception  of  the  cases  above  mentioned,  I  have 
reproduced  the  text  of  the  Ilarleiau  Ms.  with  literal  accuracy. 
My  object  has  been  to  give  Chaucer,  as  far  as  can  be  done,  in  his 
own  language,  which  certainly  has  not  yet  been  done  in  print. 
I  doubt  much  if  the  diffei-Mit  attempts  at  half  or  wholly  mod- 
ernizing his  language,  which  have  been  made  .«  latter  years, 
will  ever  render  him  popular  ;  and  his  poetry  is  entirely  lost  in 
translations.  Surely,  when  we  remember  the  oft-repeated  say- 
ing, that  the  trouble  of  learning  Spanish  is  well  repaid  by  the 
simple  pleasure  of  reading  Don  Quixote  in  the  original,  we  may 
well  be  allowed  to  wonder  that  any  Englishman  of  taste  should 
refuse  the  comparatively  trifling  labor  of  making  himself  ac- 
quainted with  his  own  language  of  little  more  than  four  cen- 
turies ago,  for  the  satisfaction  of  reading  and  understanding 
the  poetry  of  his  glorious  countryman  Geoffrey  Chaucer. 
Changing  and  mutilating  is  not,  in  my  opinion,  the  right  way 
to  make  anything  popular  ;  and  in  the  present  work  my  object 
is  not  the  mere  production  of  a  correct  (or,  at  least,  as  correct 
as  under  all  the  circumstances  can  be  expected)  edition  of 
the  father  of  our  poetry ;  I  would  try  the  experiment  of 
making  his  writings  popular  by  the  very  fact  of  their  being 
orrectly  printed,  and  by  the  addition  of  popular  (and  not 
cholastic)  notes — notes,  the  aim  01  which  is  to  explain  and 
llustrate,  in  a  simple  and  unpretending  manner,  allusions  and 
xpressions  which  may  not  be  generally  Known  to  those  who  are 
ot  in  the  habit  of  studying  the  documents  and  the  antiquities 
of  Chaucer's  age.  For  this  purpose,  I  avail  myself  of  every- 
thing within  my  reach.  Although  I  have  felt  it  necessary  to 
spoak  unreservedly  of  the  defects  in  Tyrwlatt's  text— for  which 
we  must  of  course  make  some  allowance  in  consideration  of  tin 
tow  htate  ot  philological  science,  as  far  as  it  regarded  Uie  mid 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

die  ages,  in  his  time — yet  it  must  be  confessed  to  his  credit 
thai  he  entered  upon  his  labors,  in  editing  Chaucer,  with  zeal, 
and  executed  them  with  no  small  share  of  industry  and  re- 
search. His  notes  on  the  Canterbury  Tales  contain  much  that 
is  useful  and  valuable,  and  this  I  have  unscrupulously  trans- 
ferred to  my  own  edition,  either  in  his  own  words  or  »u  «a 
•brdged  form: 


THE  CANTEKBURY  TALES. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 

WHAN  that  Aprille  with  his  schowres  swoote  1 

The  drought  of  Marche  hath  perced  to  the  roote, 

And  bathud  every  veyne  in  swich  licour, 

Of  which  vertue  engendred  is  the  flour  ; — 

Whan  Zephirus  eek  with  his  swete  breeth 

Enspirud  hath  in  every  holte  and  heeth  6 

The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  soniie 

Hath  in  the  Rain  his  halfe  cours  i-ronne, 

And  sinale  fowles  inaken  tnelodie, 

That  slepen  al  the  night  with  open  yhe, 

So  priketh  hem  nature  in  here  corages: — 

Thanne  longen  folk  to  gon  on  pilgrimages, 

And  palmers  for  to  seeken  straunge  strondes, 

To  feme  halwes,  kouthe  in  sondry  londes  ;  14 

And  specially,  from  every  schires  ende 

Of  Engeloiid,  to  Canturbury  they  wende, 

Tlie  holy  blisful  martir  for  to  seeke, 

That  hem  hath  holpen  whan  that  they  were  seeke. 

Byfel  that,  in  that  sesoun  on  a  day. 
In  Southwerk  at  the  Tabbard  as  I  lay, 
Redy  to  wendeii  on  my  pilgrimage 

To  Canturbury  with  ful  devout  corage,  22 

At  night  was  come  into  that  hostelrie 
Wei  nyne  and  twenty  in  a  compauye, 
)f  sondry  folk,  by  aventure  i-falle 

8  the  Ram.  Tyrwhitt  thinks  that  Chaucer  has  made  a  mjstake,  and  thus 
U  ought  to  be  the  Bull,  because,  the  showers  of  April  having  pierced  the 
diouth  of  March  to  the  root,  the  sun  must  have  passed  through  the  sign  o« 
the  Kam  and  entered  that  of  the  Bull. 

14.  Artie.  Nearly  all  the  MSS.  1  have  examined,  and  certainly  the  beet, 
agree  In  this  reading.  Tyrwhitt  has  adopted  the  reading  xrrve,  which  prob- 
ably originated  in  mistaking  "  feme  "  for  "  forue,"— feme  haiwei  mean**  dit- 
saints. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


In  fela?chipe,  and  pilgryms  Avere  thei  alle, 

That  toward  Canturbury  wolden  ryde. 

The  chaiubres  and  the  stables  weren  wyde, 

And  wel  we  weren  esud  atte  beste.  'II 

And  schortly,  whan  the  sonne  was  to  veste, 

So  hadde  I  spoken  with  hem  everychon, 

That  I  was  of  here  felawschipe  anon, 

And  made  forward  erly  to  aryse, 

To  take  oure  weye  ther  as  I  yow  devyse. 

But  natheles,  whiles  I  have  tyme  and  space, 

Or  that  I  ferthere  in  this  tale  pace, 

Me  tkinketh  it  accordant  to  resoun, 

To  telle  yow  alle  the  condiciouu  S6 

Of  eche  of  hem,  so  as  it  semed  me, 

And  which  they  weren,  and  of  what  degre  ; 

And  eek  in  what  array  that  they  were  inue  : 

And  at  a  knight  than  wol  I  first  bygynne. 

A  KNIGHT  ther  was,  and  that  a  worthy  man, 
That  from  the  tyme  that  he  ferst  bigan 
To  ryden  out,  he  lovede  chyvalrye, 
Trouthe  and  honour,  fredom  and  curtesie.  40 

Ful  worthi  was  he  in  his  lordes  werre, 
And  thereto  hadde  he  riden,  noman  ferre, 
As  wel  in  Cristendom  as  in  hethenesse, 
And  evere  honoured  for  his  worthinesse. 
At  Alisandre  he  was  whan  it  was  wonne. 
Ful  ofte  tyme  he  hadde  the  bord  bygonne  53 

Aboven  alle  naciouris  in  Pruce. 
In  Lettowe  hadde  reyced  and  in  Ruce, 
No  cristen  man  so  ofte  of  his  degre. 
In  Gernade  atte  siege  hadde  he  be 
Of  Algesir,  and  riden  in  Bel  marie. 
At  Lieys  was  he,  and  at  Satalie, 

43.  A  knight.  It  was  a  common  thing,  in  this  age,  for  knights  to  seek  em 
ployment  in  foreign  countries  which  were  at  v.ar.  Tyrwhitt  cites  from  Lcland 
the  epitaph  of  a  knight  of  this  period,  Mauhow  tie  (lournay,  who  "  en  so.  vie 


continual  warfare  with  their  Pagan  neighbors  in  Lithuania  (Lettowe),  RUB- 


F*c»7    Gkrlr. 

56.  Qernade.  The  citv  of  Algezir  was  taken  from  the  Moorish  king  of 
Grenada  in  1344.  Belmarie  appears  to  hare  been  one  of  the  Moorish  States 
in  Africa.  .Lavas  (Lieys),  in  Armenia,  was  taken  from  the  Turks  by  I'ierra 
de  Lusignan,  about  1367.  Satalio  was  taken  by  the  game  prince  soon  aftei 
1352.  Tremessen  was  one  of  tho  .Moorish  States  in  Africa.  I'.dathia,  in  An- 
atolia, was  one  of  the  lordshipe  held  by  Christian  knights  after  the  Turkish 
oonquesU. 


rub  rnoLoGUh.  21 


Whan  they  were  wonne  ;  and  in  the  Greeto  see 

At  many  a  noble  arive  hadde  he  be. 

At  mortal  batailles  hadde  he  ben  fiftene,  S) 

And  foughten  for  our  feith  at  Tramassene 

In  lystes  times,  and  ay  slayn  his  foo. 

This  ilke  worth!  knight  hadde  ben  also 

Sonityme  with  the  lord  of  Palatye, 

Ageyn  another  hethene  in  Turkye  : 

And  everemore  he  hadde  a  sovereyn  prys. 

And  though  that  he  was  worthy  he  was  wys,  68 

And  of  his  port  as  ineke  as  is  a  mayde. 

He  never  yit  no  vilonye  ne  sayde 

In  al  his  lyf,  unto  no  inaner  wight. 

He  was  a  verray  perfight  gentil  knight. 

But  for  to  telle  you  of  his  aray, 

Hi&  hors  was  good,  but  he  ne  was  nought  gay. 

Of  fustyan  he  wered  a  gepoun  79* 

Al  bysnioterud  with  his  haburgeoun, 

For  he  was  late  coinen  from  his  viage, 

And  wente  for  to  doon  his  pilgrimage. 

With  him  ther  was  his  sone,  a  yong  SQUYER, 
A  bovver,  and  a  lusty  bacheler, 
With  lokkes  crulle  as  they  were  layde  in  presse 
Of  twenty  veer  he  was  of  age  I  gesse. 
Of  his  stature  he  was  of  evene  lengthe,  83 

And  wondurly  delyver,  and  gret  of  strengthe. 
And  he  hadde  ben  somtyme  in  chivachio, 
In  FLaundres,  in  Artoys,  and  in  Picardie, 
And  born  him  wel,  as  in  so  litel  space, 
In  hope  to  stonderi  in  his  lady  grace. 
Embrowdid  was  he,  as  it  were  a  mede 
Al  ful  of  f'resshe  iloures.  white  and  reede. 
Syngynge  lie  was,  or  flowtynge,  al  the  day  ;  91 

He  was  as  fressh  as  is  the  monetli  of  May. 
Suhort  was  his  goune,  with  sleeves  long  and  wyde. 
Wel  cowde  he  sitte  on  hors,  and  faire  ryde. 
lie  cowde  songes  wel  make  and  endite, 
Justne  and  eek  daunce,  and  wel  purtray  and  write 
So  hote  he  lovede,  that  by  nightertale 
He  sleep  nomore  than  doth  a  nithtyngale. 
Curteys  he  was,  lowly,  and  servysable,  &S 

SO-  cliiva-chif.  Every  reailer  of  the  contemporary  histories  of  Eilwu.r-1 
II I. '8  wars  in  Franco  knows  the  pride  which  the  kiiights  took  in  shewing 
Uleir  c'ourage  in  the  continual  chevuchies,  or  little  excursions,  into  tlis 
enemy's  country. 

94.  /hire.  I  Lave  substituted  this  reading  from  other  MSS.,  in  place  of  ?rti 
cotrrie  he,  given  by  the  Harl.  Ms.,  which  appears  to  be  a  mere  blundering 
repetition. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  carf  byforn  his  fadnr  at  the  table. 

A  YKMAJV  had  he,  and  servantes  nomoo 
At  that  tyme,  for  him  lus-t  ryde  soo  ; 
And  he  was  clad  in  coote  and  hood  of  grene. 
A  shef  of  pocok  arwes  bright  and  kene 
Under  his  belte  he  bar  full  thriftily. 
Wei  eowde  he  dresse  his  takel  yomanly  ; 
liis  arwes  drowpud  nought  with  fetheres  lowe. 
And  in  his  bond  he  bar  a  mighty  bowe.  108 

A  not-heed  hadcle  he,  with  a  broun  visage. 
Of  woode-craft  cowde  he  wel  al  the  usage. 
Upon  his  arnie  he  bar  a  gray  bracer, 
And  by  his  side  a  swerd  and  a  bokeler, 
And  on  that  other  side  a  gay  daggere, 
Harneysed  wel,  and  scharp  as  poynt  of  spere  \ 
A  Cristofre  on  his  brest  of  silver  schene. 
An  horn  he  bar,  the  bawdrik  was  of  grene  ;  116 

A  forster  was  he  sothely,  as  I  gesse. 

Ther  was  also  a  Nonne,  a  PRIORESSH, 
That  of  hire  smylyng  was  ful  symple  and  coy  ; 
Hire  grettest  ooth  nas  but  by  seynt  Loy  ; 
And  sche  wasclept  madame^Englentyne. 
Ful  wel  scho  sang  the  servise  devyne,  122 

Entuned  in  hire  nose  ful  semyly  ; 
And  Frensch  sche  spak  ful  faire  and  fetysly, 
Aftur  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte'Bowe, 
For  Frensch  of  Parys  was  to  hire  unknowe. 
At  mete  wel  i-taught  was  sche  withalle  ; 
Sche  leet  no  morsel  from  hire  lippes  falle, 
Ne  wette  hire  fyngres  in  hire  sauce'  deepe. 

104.  pocok  rtrwes.  Arrows  fledged  with  peacock's  feathers.  They  appear 
to  have  been  larger  than  tlio  common  arrows.  In  a  compotus  of  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester,  in  1-171  (cited  by  Wart  on,  Hist.  E.  P.  ii.  p.  211),  we  have  cue 
head. — '•  finijUtiK  magnce.  Et  de  cxiii:.  sayittis  innr/uts  barbatls  cum  pennis 
l/avonum." 

115.  A  Cristnfre.  A  figure  of  St.  Christopher  used  us  a  brooch.  On  the  use 
of  tl^e  brooches,  or  signs,  see  an  interesting  paper,  by  Mr.  C.  Koach  Smith, 
In  the  Journal  of  the  British  Archa;ological  Association,  vol.  i.  p.  200.  The 
t;^ur<;  of  St.  Christopher  \va.s  looked  upon  with  particular  reverence  among  the 
middle  and  lower  classes  ;  and  was  supposed  to  possess  the  power  of  shielding 
ihc  person  who  looked  oil  it  from  hidden  dangers. 

120.  St.  Loy.  Probably  a  corruption  of  St.  Kloy,  or  St.  Eligius.  It  is  the 
reading  of  all  the  MSS.  ;  and  Tyrwhitt  ought  not  to  have  changed  it.  The 
Fame  oath  occurs  in  the  Freres  Tale,  1.  7143- 

124.  t'rensch.  The  French  taught  in  England  was  the  debased  form  of  the 
old  Anglo-Norman,  somewhat  similar  to  that  used  at  a  later  peri<  d  in  the 
rourts  of  Jaw  ;  and  it  was  this  at  which  Chaucer,  and  some  of  his  coniempo- 
rttricfc,  sneered.  The  wriier  of  the  Visions  of  Pierre  Ploughman  Kpt-aks  of 
French  of  Norfolk,  1.  2340. 

127.  Al  ir.t/e.  These  remarks  agree,  almost  literally,  with  the  dircc'.ioni 
contained  ir-  the  different  medieval  tracts  written  for  the  purpose  of  teaching 
DbanneiB  at  .able. 


THE  PKOLOGUJi.  28 


Wei  oowde  sche  carie  a  morsel,  and  wel  keep*          130 
Q    /That  no  drope  lil  uppon  hire'brest. 
-In  curtesie  was  sett  al  hire  lest. 
Hire  overlippe'  wypud  sche  so  clene, 
That  in  hire  cuppe  was  no  ferthing  sene 
Of  greesywhan  sche  dronken  hadde  hire  draught.  J 
Ful  semely  aftur  hire  mete  sche  raught. 
And  sikurly  sche  was  of  gret  disport, 
And  ful  plesant,  and  amyable  of  port,  188 

And  peyned  hire  to  counterfete  cheere 
Of  court,  and  ben  estat!ich  of  manere, 
And  to  ben  holden  digne  of  reverence. 
But  for  to  speken  of  hire  conscience, 
Sche  was  so  charitable  and  so  pitous, 
Sche  wolde  weepe  if  that  sche  sawe  a  mons  144 

Caught  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  deed  or  bledde. 
Of  smale  houndes  hadde  sche,  that  sche  fedde 
With  rostud  fleissh  and  mylk  and  wastel  breed. 
But  sore  wepte  sche  if  oon  of  hem  were  deed, 
Or  if  men  smot  it  with  a  yerde  smerte  : 
And  al  was  conscience  and  tendre  herte. 
Ful  semely  hire  wymple  i-pynched  was  ; 
Hire  nose  straight ;  hire  eyen  grey  as  glas  ;  152 

Hire  mouth  lul  smal,  and  therto  softe  and  reed  ; 
But  sikurly  sche  hadde  a  fair  forheed. 
It  was  almost  a  spanne  brood,  1  trowe  ; 
For  hardily  sche  was  not  undurgrowe. 
Ful  fetys  was  hire  cloke,  as  I  was  waar. 
Of  smal  coral  aboute  hire  arme  sche  baar 
A  peire  of  bedes  gatidid  al  with  grene  ; 
And  theron  heng  a  broch  of  gold  ful  schene,  100 

On  which  was  first  i-writen  a  crowned  A, 
And  after  that,  Amor  vincit  omnia. 
Anothur  NOIVIVE  also  with  hire  hadde  sche, 
That  was  hire  chapelleyn,  arid  PRESTES  thre. 
A  MONK  ther  was,  a  fair  for  the  maistrie, 

149.  men  smot.  Tho  word  men,  used  in  this  phrase,  appears  here  construed 
With  a  singular  verb,  as  though  it  might  had  been  nuin  (on  frappn).  Sc 
again,  below,  1.  169,  men  might.  So  in  a  poem  in  niy  Political  Song.",  p.  3:iO. 
"  Whera  shal  men  nu  finde." 

152.  eyen  grey  This  appears  to  have  been  the  favorite  color  of  ladies' 
•yes  in  the  time  of  Chaucer.  The  young  girl,  in  the  lieves  Tale,  is  described— 

With  camoys  nose,  and  eyghen  gray  as  glas. 

160,  a  broch.  In  1845  a  brooch,  of  the  form  of  an  A,  was  found  in  a  tielo 
"n  Uoruetahire.  It  appeared  to  be  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  afToitis  a 
<anoiis  illustration  of  this  passage  of  Chaucei.  Tho  inscription  on  one  side 
teems  to  bo,  — 

1O  FAS   AMES  £   DOZ   DV,   AMK.U. 


24  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


An  out-rydere,  that  k>ved  venerye  ; 

A  manly  man,  to  ben  an  abbot  able. 

Full  many  a  deynte  hors  hadde  he  in  stable  : 

And  whan  he  rood,  men  might  his  bridel  heere 

Gyngle  in  a  whistlyng  wynd  so  cleere,  170 

And  eek  as  lowde  as  doth  the  chapel  belle, 

Ther  as  the  lord  was  keper  of  the  selle 

The  reule  of  seynt  Maure  or  of  seint  Beneyt, 

Bycause  that  it  was  old  and  somdel  streyt, 

This  ilke  monk  leet  olde  thinges  pace,  175 

And  helde  aftur  the  newe  world  the  space. 

He  gaf  nat  of  that  text  a  pulled  hen, 

That  seith,  that  hunters  been  noon  holy  men  ; 

Ne  that  a  monk,  whan  he  is  cloysterles, 

Is  likned  to  a  fissche  that  is  watirles  ; 

This  is  to  sayn,  a  monk  out  of  his  cloystre. 

But  thilke  text  hild  he  not  worth  an  oystre. 

And  I  seide  his  opinioun  was  good. 

What  schulde  he  studie,  and  make  himselven  wood, 

Uppon  a  book  in  cloystre  alway  to  powre.  185 

Or  swynke  with  his  handes,  and  laboure, 

As  Austyn  byt  ?     How  schal  the  world  be  served  ? 

Lat  Austyn  have  his  swynk  to  him  reserved. 

Therfore  he  was  a  pricasour  aright  ; 

Greyhoundes  he  hadde  as  swifte  as  fowel  in  flight  ;. 

166.  loved  venerye.  The  monks  of  the  middle  ages  were  extremely  attached 
to  hunting  and  Held  sports  ;  and  this  \vas  a  frequent  subject  of  complaint 
with  the  more  austere  ecclesiastics,  and  of  satire  with  the  laity. 

170.  //>/7i</lc.  It  was  a  universal  practice  among  riders  who  wished  to  be 
thought  i'asliionable,  to  have  their  horses'  bridles  hung  with  bells.  The  Tem- 
plars were  blamed  for  this  vanity  in  the  thirteenth  century.  In  the  romance 
of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  the  Sultan  of  l>amas  has  a  trusty  mare,  of  which 
we  are  told, 

Hys  crouper  heeng  al  fill  of  belles, 

And  his  peytrel.  and  his  aisoun, 

Three  myle  myghte  men  hear  the  sown. 

Wycliffe,  in  his  Triloge.  inveighs  against  the  priests  of  his  time  for  their 
'•  fair  hors,  and  joly  and  gay  sadeles,  and  bridles  ringing  by  the  way."  At  « 
much  later  period,  Spencer  describes  a  lady's  steed,— 

Her  wanton  palfrey  all  was  overspread 
"With  tinsel  trappings,  woven  like  a  wave, 
Whose  bridle  rung  with  golden  bells  and  bosses  brave. 

173.  jjie  n-ith'.     The  rules  of  St.   Mnuiv  and  St.  Benet  were  the  oldest 
forms  of  monastic  discipline  in  the  Itomish  diurcli. 

174.  ulili'  thin;i<'!s.     This  is   the    reading   of  most  of  the  MSS.,  and  I  have 
adopted  it  instead  of  that  of  the  Ms.  Harl.,  forbtj  hem,  which  appears  to  give 
no  clear  sense. 

17!>.  clnt/xtcrle*.  This  is  also  (he  reading  of  a  Cambridge  MS.  The  passage 
is  a  literal  translation  of  one  from  the  Decretal  of  Gratian,  as  cited  by  Tyr- 
whitt, — "  .Sicitt  ]>incis  nine  aqua  cnrct  rita,  itn  shie  mn-nnfti-rio  monaclnis." 
The  otlier  readings,  reliceles,  rechelex,  &c.,  found  in  most  of  the  Jiss..  present 
considerable  dilliculties ;  and  Tyrwhitt's  explanation  seems  hardly  admis- 
sible. 


TUE  PROLOGUE.  25 


Of  prikyng  and  of  huntyng  for  the  hare 

Was  al  his  lust,  for  no  cost  wolde  he  spare.  192 

I  saugh  his  sieves  pur  filed  atte  hond 

With  grys,  and  that  the  fynest  of  a  loud. 

And  for  to  festne  his  hood  undur  his  chyn 

He  hiuUle  of  gold  y -wrought  a  curious  pyn  : 

A  love-knotte  in  the  gretter  ciide  ther  was. 

His  heed  was  ballid,  and  sclion  as  euy  glas, 

And  eek  his  face  as  he  hadde  be  anoynt. 

He  was  a  lord  ful  fat  and  in  good  poynt  ;  200 

His  eyeii  steep,  and  rollyng  in  his  heed, 

Tliat  steined  as  a  forneys  of  a  leed  ; 

Uis  bootes  souple,  his  hors  in  gret  estat. 

Now  certeinly  he  was  a  fair  prelat  ; 

He  was  not  pale  as  a  for-pyned  goost. 

A  fat  .swan  loved  he  best  of  eny  roost. 

His  palfray  was  as  broun  as  eny  berye. 

A  FRKRE  ther  was,  a  wantoun  and  a  merye, 
A  lyniytour,  a  ful  soleiupne  man.  209 

Jn  alle  the  ordres  foure  is  noon  that  can 
80  nioche  of  daliaunce  and  fair  langage. 
He  hadde  i-inade  niany  a  fair  niariage 
Of  yonge  wynnnen,  at  his  owne  cost. 
Unto  his  ordre  he  was  a  noble  post. 
Ful  wel  biloved  and  famulier  was  he 
With  frankeleyns  over  al  in  his  curitre, 
And  eek  with  worthi  wommen  of  the  touu  :  217 

For  he  hadde  power  of  confession n, 
As  seyde  himself,  more  than  a  curat, 
For  of  his  ordre  he  was  licenciat. 
Ful  sweetly  herde  he  confessioun, 
And  plesaunt  was  his  absolucioun  ; 
He  was  an  esy  man  to  geve  penance 
Ther  as  he  wiste  to  han  a  good  pitance  ; 
For  unto  a  povre  ordre  for  to  geve  226 

Is  signe  that  a  man  is  wel  i-schreve. 
For  if  he  gaf,  he  dorste  make  a  vaunt, 
lie  wiste  that  a  man  was  repentaunt. 
For  many  a  man  so  hard  is  of  his  herte, 
He  may  not  wepe  though  him  sore  smerte. 
Therfore  in  stede  of  wepyng  and  prayeres, 
Men  mooten  given  silver  to  the  pore  freres. 
Uis  typet  was  ay  farsud  ful  of  knyfes 

a.  aouple.  "This  iB  imrt  of  the  description  of  a  smart  abbot,  by  an  an 
noufl  writer  of  the  thirteenth  century. — '  (>cren.<  hnbebatiticruribus,qvsii, 
.tm  es»cnt,s*ne  plica  porrccfo*.'— Ms.  HodJ..  Jamos,  n.  6.  p.  121."—  Tyr- 


28  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  pynnes,  for  to  give  faire  wyfes.  234 

And  certayn  lie  hadde  a  inery  noote. 
Wei  couthe  he  synge  and  pleye  on  a  rote. 
Of  yeddynges  he  bar  utturly  the  prys. 
His  nekke  whit  was  as  the  flour-de-lys. 
Therto  he  strong  was  as  a  champioun. 
He  knew  wel  the  tavernes  in  every  toun, 
And  every  ostiller  or  gay  tapstere, 
Bet  than  a  la/er,  or  a  beggere,  243 

For  unto  such  a  worth i  man  as  he 
Acorded  not,  as  by  his  faculte, 
To  have  with  sike  la/ars  aqueyntaunce. 
It  is  not  honest,  it  may  not  avaunce, 
For  to  delen  with  such  poraile, 
But  al  with  riche  and  sellers  of  vitaille. 
And  over  al,  ther  eny  profyt  schulde  arise, 
Curteys  he  was,  and  lowe  of  servyse. 
Ther  was  no  man  nowher  so  vertuous. 
He  was  the  beste  begger  in  al  his  hous, 
For  though  a  widewe  hadde  but  oo  schoo, 
So  plesaunt  was  his  In  principio, 
Yet  wolde  he  have  a  ferthing  or  he  wente. 
His  purchace  was  bettur  than  his  rente. 
And  rage  he  couthe  and  pleye  as  a  whelpe, 
In  love-dayes  ther  couthe  he  mochil  helpe. 
For  ther  was  he  not  like  a  cloysterer,  26i 

With  a  thredbare  cope,  as  a  pore  scoler, 
But  he  was  like  a  maister  or  a  pope. 
Of  double  worstede  was  his  semy-cope, 
That  rounded  was  as  a  belle  out  of  presse. 
Somwhat  he  lipsede,  for  wantounesse. 
To  make  his  Euglissch  swete  upon  his  tunge ; 
And  in  his  harpyng,  whan  that  he  hadde  sunges 
His  eyghen  twynkeled  in  his  heed  aright,  269 

As  don  the  sterres  in  the  frosty  night. 
This  worthi  lyrnytour  was  called  Huberd. 
A  MARCHAUXT  was  ther  with  a  forked  berd, 

-Ti    ymldynyes.    Ms.  C.  2,  reads  weddinges. 

;'."£    After  this  line,  the  two  following  are  added  in  Tyrwhltt  :— 

And  gave  a  certaine  ferine  for  the  grant, 
Kon  of  his  bretheren  caine  in  his  hauut. 

Th>.y  are  wanting  in  all  the  MSS.  I  have  consulted  ;  a  circumstance  of  wh:cli 
Tynvhitt  takes  no  notice,  though  they  are  an  evident  interpolation,  He  e«ami 
to  l.ave  taken  them  from  the  old  printed  editions. 

2.">8  pure/nine.    This  sentiment,  or  proverb,  is  takeii   literally  from  a  Una 
la  -.lie  Koinance  of  the  Kose  :  — 

Miuiix  vault  iiiu:i  {».iuivh*s  que  ma  rente. 


THE  PROLOGUE.  27 


In  motteleye,  and  high  on  horse  he  sat,  27? 

Uppon  his  heed  a  Flaundrisch  bever  hat ; 

His  botus  clapsud  faire  and  fetously. 

His  resons  he  spak  ful  soleinpnely, 

Sownyngfl  alway  the  encres  of  his  wynriyng. 

He  wolde  the  see  were  kepud  for  eny  thinge 

Betwixe  Middulburgh  and  Orewelle. 

Wei  couthe  he  in  eschange  scheeldes  selle. 

Tliis  worth!  man  ful  wel  his  witte  bisette  ;  2b 

Tlier  wiste  no  man  that  he  was  in  dette, 

So  estately  was  he  of  governaunce, 

With  his  bargayns,  and  with  his  chevysaunce. 

For  sothe  he  was  a  worth!  man  withalle, 

But  soth  to  say,  I  not  what  men  him  ealle. 

"  A  CLERK  ther  was  of  Oxen  ford  also, 

That  unto  logik  hadde'  longe  i-go. 

Al  so  lene  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake,  fc8& 

And  he  was  not  right  fat,  I  undertake  ; 

But  lokede  holwe,  and  therto  soburly. 

Ful  thredbare  was  his  overest  courtepy, 
O .  /For  hejiadde  nought  geten  him  yit  a  benefice, 
•vNe  was  not  worthy  to  haven  an  office. 

For  him  was  lever  have  at  his  beddes  heed 

Twenty  booked,  clothd  in  bleak  and  reed, 

Of  Aristotil,  and  of  hisphilosophie,  291f 

Then  robtfs  riche,  or  fithul,  or  sawtrie./ 

But  al  though  he  were  a  philosophre, 

Yet  hadde  he  but  litul  gold  in  cofre  ; 

But  al  that  he  might  of  his  frendes  hente, 

On  bookes  and  his  lernyng  l\e  it  spente,  302 

And  busily  gan  for  the  soules  pray 

Of  hem  that  gaf  him  wherwith  to  scolay. 

Of  studie  tooke  he  most  cure  and  heede. 
/"Not  oo  word  spak  he  more  than  was  ijeede  ; 

Al  that  he  spak  it  was  of  heye  prudence, 

And  schort  and  quyk,  and  ful  of  gret  sentence. 

Sownynge  in  moral  manere  was  his  speche, 
\Aiid  gladly  wolde  he  lerne,  and  gladly  teehe. 

278.  forked  berd.  In  Shottesbrooke  church,  Berks,  there  is  a  brass  ;f  • 
franklin  of  the  time  of  Edward  III.,  in  which  he  is  represented  with  such  t 
forked  beard,  which  seems  to  have  been  the  fashionable  mode  of  dressing 
ihe  beard  among  the  bourgeoisie.  The  Anglo-Saxons  wore  forked  beards. 

SOI.  mi/jlit  qfliisfrendes  hvnte.  This  is  the  reading  of  most  of  the  MSS., 
and  appears  to  bo  ihe  right  one.  The  Ms.  llarl.  reads,  miyht  ycte  nnd  Ai» 
frendts  sen<le. 

304.  gtif  him.  An  allusion  to  the  common  practice,  at  this  period,  of  pool 
ccholars  in  the  Universities,  who  wandered  abont  the  country,  begging,  tc 
rai»«  money  to  support  tUem  in  their  atudice.  See  Piers  Ploughman,  1.  4526, 
a»4  note. 


28  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

A  SERGEANT  OF  LA  WE,  war  and  wys, 
That  often  hadde  ben  atte  parvys, 
Ther  was  also,  ful  riclie  of  excellence. 
Discret  he  was,  and  of  gret  reverence  : 
He  semed  such,  his  wordes  were  so  wise, 
Justice  he  was  ful  often  in  assise, 
By  patent,  and  by  pleyn  commissioun  ; 
For  his  science,  and  for  his  heih  renoun,  318 

Of  fees  and  robes  had  he  many  oon. 
So  gret  a  purchasour  was  ther  nowlier  noon. 
Al  was  fee  syinple  to  him  in  effecte, 
His  purchasyng  might  nought  ben  to  him  suspecte. 
Nowher  so  besy  a  man  as  he  ther  nas,  S28 

And  yit  he  semed  besier  than  he  was. 
In  termes  hadde  caas  and  domes  alle, 
That  fro  the  tynie  of  kyng  Will  were  falle. 
Therto  he  couthe  endite,  and  make  a  thing, 
Ther  couthe  no  man  pynche  at  his  writyng. 
And  every  statute  couthe  he  pleyn  by  roote. 
He  rood  but  hoomly  in  a  medled  coote, 
Gird  with  a  seynt  of  silk,  with  barres  smalc  ;  331 

.  Qf  his  array  telle  I  no  leiiger  tale. 

A  FRAXKE.LKY:V  ther  was  in  his  corupanye  ; 
Whit  was  his  berde,  as  the  dayesye. 
Of  his  complexioun  he  was  sangwyn. 
Wei  loved  he  in  the  morn  a  sop  of  wyn. 
To  lyve  in  delite  was  al  his  wone, 
For  he  was  Epieurius  owne  sone, 

That  heeld  opynyoun  that  pleyn  delyt  339 

Was  verraily  felicite  perfyt. 
An  househaldere,  and  that  a  gret,  was  he ; 
Seynt  Julian  he  was  in  his  countre. 
His  breed,  his  ale,  was  alway  after  oon  ; 
A  bettre  envyned  mat.  was  nowher  noon. 
Withoute  take  mete  was  never  his  hous, 
Of  iloissch  and  fissch,  and  that  so  plenty  vous, 
It  snewed  in  his  hous  of  mete  and  drynk, 
Of  alle  deyntees  that  men  cowde  thynke. 
Aftur  the  sondry  sesouns  of  they  eer, 
He  chaunged  hem  at  mete  and  at  soper,  35(r 

Ful  many  a  fat  part  rich  had  he  in  me  we, 

512.  parvys.  This  IB  generally  explained  as  a  portico  before  a  church. 
TLe  part- is  at  London,  supposed  to  be  that  of  St.  Paul's,  was  anciently  fre- 
quented by  sergeants-at-law,  as  we  learn  from  Forteecue.  do  Laud.  leg.  Angl. 
z.!>l—"l'ostmeriUiem  curice  non  teticniur ;  sed  placitantea  tune  se  divertwit 
a<! pcrvisum  el  alibi,  cmisulenteit  citin  sercientibns  ad  iegem  ct  aliis  consiliariit 
fU'.;:."  See  also  Warton's  Hist,  of  Kng.  Poetry,  edit,  of  1840,  vol.  ii.  p.  212. 

342   St.  Julian  was  the  patron  of  hospitality. 


THE  PROLOGUE.  2f 


And  many  a  broin  and  many  a  luce  in  stewe. 

Woo  was  his  cook,  but  if  his  sauce  were 

Poynant  and  scharp,  and  redy  al  his  gere. 

His  table  dormant  in  his  halle  alvvay 

Stood  redy  covered  al  the  longe  day. 

At  spss'^ns  ther  was  he  lord  and  sire. 

Ful  of  te  tyme  he  was  knight  of  the  schire. 

An  an  las  and  a  gipser  al  of  silk 

Heng  at  his  gerdul,  whit  as  morne  mylk.  160 

A  schirreve  hadde  he  ben,  and  a  counter ; 

V\  as  nowher  such  a  worth!  vavaser. 

An  HABUROASSHER  and  a  CARPENTER, 
A  WKBBE,  a  DKYKR,  and  a  TAPICER, 
Weren  with  us  eeke,  clothed  in  oo  lyvere, 
Of  a  solempne  and  gret  fraternite. 
Ful  freissh  and  newe  here  gere  piked  was  ; 
Here  knyfes  were  i-chapud  nat  with  bras, 
But  al  with  silver  wrought  ful  dene  and  wel, 
Here  gurdles  and  here  pouches  ever}'  del.  S70 

Wel  seined  eche  of  hem  a  fair  burgeys, 
To  sitten  in  a  geldehalle  on  the  deys. 
Every  man  for  the  wisdom  that  he  can, 
Was  schaply  for  to  ben  an  aldurman. 
For  catel  hadde  they  inough  and  rente, 
And  eek  here  wyfes  wolde  it  wel  assente  ; 
And  elles  certeyn  hadde  thei  ben  to  blame. 
It  is  right  fair  for  to  be  clept  madame, 
And  for  to  go  to  vigilies  al  byfore, 
And  han  a  mantel  r'ially  i-bore.-  380 

A  COOK  thei  hadde  with  hem  for  the  nones, 
To  boyle  chiknes  and  the  mary  bones, 
And  poudre  marchant,  tart,  and  galyngale. 
Wel  cowrde  he  knowe  a  draught  of  Londone  ale. 
He  cowde  roste,  sethe,  broille,  and  frie, 
Make  mortreux,  and  \vei  hake  a  pye. 
But  gret  harm  was  it,  as  it  semede  me, 
That  on  his  schyne  a  mormal  hadde  he  ; 
For  blankmanger  he  made  with  the  beste.  88'' 

A  SCHIPMAN  was  ther,  wonyng  fer  by  weste  : 
For  ought  I  woot,  he  was  of  l)ertemouthe. 
He  rood  upon  a  rouncy,  ;us  he  couthe, 
In  a  gowne  of  faldyng  to  the  kne. 

352.  in  s/etre  ,  i.  e.  in  a  fish-pond.  The  great  consumption  of  tish  uuj«l 
{lie  Romish  regime  rendered  a  lish-pond  a  necessary  aeces.sory  to  every  gen- 
tleman's house. 

355.  table  dormant.    Probably  the  fixed  table  at  the  end  of  ->he  hall. 

3/^1.  L<mdvne  al?.,  Tyrwhitt  h;us  cited  a  passage  of  an  old  writer,  which 
9i»«ws  that  I<uLdou  ale  wai  ^ri/.ed  above  thai  of  oihcr  parts  ol  the  cjuntry 


30  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

A  dagger  hangyng  on  a  laas  hadde  he 
Aboute  his  nekke  under  his  arm  adoun. 
The  hoote  somer  had  maad  his  hew  al  broun  ; 
And  certeinly  he  was  a  good  felawe. 
Ful  many  a  draught  of  wyn  had  he  drawe 
From  Burdeux-ward,  Avhil  that  the  chapman  sleep. 
Of  nyce  conscience  took  he  no  keep.  400 

If  that  he  foughte,  and  hadde  the  heigher  hand, 
By  water  he  sente  hem  hoom  to  every  land. 
But  of  his  craft  to  rikne  wel  the  tydes, 
His  stremes  and  his  dangers  him  bisides, 
His  herbergh  and  his  mone,  his  lodemeiiage, 
Ther  was  non  such  from  Hulie  to  Cartage. 
Hardy  he  was,  arid  wys  to  undertake  ; 
With  many  a  tempest  hadde  his  berd  ben  schako. 
He  knew  wel  alle  the  havenes,  as  thei  were,  , 

From  Scotlond  to  the  cape  of  Fynestere,  410 

Arid  every  cryk  in  Bretayne  and  in  Spayne  ; 
His  barge  y-clepud  was  the  Magdelayne. 
Ther  was  also  a  DOCTOUR  OF  PHISIK, 
In  al  this  world  rie  was  ther  non  him  lyk 
To  speke  of  phisik  and  of  surgerye  ; 
For  he  was  grouridud  in  astronomye. 
He  kepte  his  pacient  a  ful  gretdel 
In  houres  by  his  magik  riaturel. 
Wel  cowdehe  fortune  the  ascendent 
Of  his  y mages  for  his  pacient.  420 

He  knew  the  cause  of  every  maladye, 
Were  it  of  cold,  or  hete,  or  moyst,  or  drye, 
And  where  thei  engendrid,  and  of  what  humour  ; 
He  was  a  verrey  parfight  practisour. 
The  cause  i-knowe,  and  of  his  harm  the  roote, 
Anon  he  gaf  the  syke  man  his  boote. 
Ful  redy  hadde  he  his  apotecaries, 
To  sende  him  dragges,  and  his  letuaries, 
For  eche  of  hem  made  othur  for  to  wynne  ; 
Her  friendschipe  nas  not  newe  to  begynne.  430 

Wel  knew  he  the  olde  Esculapius, 

396.  thehootes  omcr.  Perhaps  this  is  a  reference  to  the  summer  of  the  year 
1351,  which  was  long  remembered  as  the  dry  anil  hot  summer.  Other  allu- 
sions in  this  gsneral  prologue  seem  to  shew  that  Chaucer  intended  to  lay  the 
jilot  of  his  Canterbury  pilgrimage  soon  after  this  date. 

410.  .Scotland.  Most  of  the  MSS.  have  Got  land,  the  reading  adopted  byTyr- 
*hitt,  and  possibly  the  correct  one. 

416.  Astronomy?.  A  groat  portion  of  the  medical  science  of  the  middle  ages 
depended  on  astrological  and  other  superstitious  observances. 

417.  <iful  yrut  del.  Xhiti  is  the  reading  of  most  of  the  MS8.  ;  the   Ms.  Hail 
hac  vomhirly  wel. 

131.   H'el  knew  he.  The  authors  mentioned  here  were  the  chief  medi«ai 


THE  PROLOGUE.  SI 


And  Deiscorides,  and  eeke  Rufus  ; 

Old  Ypocra-,  Ilaly,  and  Galien  ; 

Serapyon,  Razis,  and  Avycen  ; 

Avcrrois,  Dainascen,  and  Constantyn  j 

Bernard,  and  Gatisden,  and  Gilbertyn. 

Of  bis  diete  niesurable  Avas  he, 

For  it  was  of  no  superfluite, 

But  of  {rret  norisching  and  digestible. 

His  studie  was  but  litel  on  the  Bible.  444 

In  sangwin  and  in  pers  he  clad  was  al, 

Lyned  with  taffata  and  with  sendal. 

And  yit  he  was  but  esy  in  dispence ; 

He  kepte  that  he  wan  in  pestilence. 

For  gold  in  phisik  is  a  cordial  j 

Therfore  he  lovede  gold  in  special. 

A  good  WIF  was  ther  OF  byside  BATHE. 
But  sche  was  soindel  deef,  and  that  was  skathe. 
Of  cloth-makyng  sche  had  tie  such  an  haunt, 
Sche  passed  hem  of  Ypris  and  of  Gaunt.  450 

In  al  the  parisshe  wyf  ne  was  ther  noon 
That  to  the  oft'ryng  byforn  hire  schulde  goon, 
And  if  ther  dide,  certeyn  so  wrcAS  was  sche, 
That  sche  was  thanne  out  of  alle  charite. 
Hire  keyerchefs  weren  ful  fyne  of  grounde  ; 
I  durste  swere  they  weyghede  ten  pounde 
That  on  the  Sonday  were  upon  hire  heed. 

text-books  of  the  middle  ages.  Rufus  was  a  Greek  physician  of  Ephesns,  of 
the  age  of  Trajan  ;  Haly,  Serapion,  and  Avicen,  were  Arabian  physicians  and 
astronomers  of  the  eleventh  century  ;  Kliasis  was  a  Spanish  Arab,  of  the 
tenth  century  ;  and  Averroes  was  a  Moorish  scholar,  who  nourished  in  Mo- 
rocco in  the  twelfth  century  ;  .Johannes  Uamasce'ius  was  also  an  Arabian 
physician,  but  of  a  much  earlier  date ;  Constantiua  Afer,  a  native  of  Carthage, 
and  afterwards  a  monk  of  Monte  Cassino.  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the 
Salerno — he  lived  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century  ;  Bernardus  Gordonius, 
professor  of  medicine  at  Moiitpellier,  appears  to  have  been  Chaucer's  con- 
temporary ;  John  Gatisden  was  a  distinguished  physician  of  Oxford,  in  the 
earlier  half  of  the  fourteenth  century  ;  Gilbertyn  is  supposed  by  Warton  to 
be  the  celebrated  Gilbertus  Anglicus.  The  other  names  mentioned  here  are 
too  well  known  to  need  further  observation.  The  names  of  Hippocrates  and 
Galen  were,  in  the  middle  ages,  always  ^or  nearly  always)  spelt  Ypocras  and 
Galienus. 

444.  pestilence.  An  allusion,  probably,  to  the  great  pestilences  which 
devastated  Europe  in  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  to  which  we 
owe  the  two  celebrated  works,  the  Decameron  of  Boccacio,  and  ihe  Visions 
of  Piers  Ploughman. 

449.  cloth  mal;ijn(j.  The  west  of  England,  and  especially  the  neighborhood 
of  Hath,  from  which  the  "  good  wif  "  came,  was  celebrated,  till  a  compara- 
tively recent  period,  as  the  district  of  cloth-making.  Ipres  and  Ghent  were 
the  great  clothing  marts  on  the  Continent. 

456.  (en  pound*.  This  :s  the  reading  of  all  the  best  MSS.  I  have  consulted. 
Tyrwhitt  has  u  jioimt/.  It  is  a  satire  on  the  fashionable  head-dresses  of  tha 
Sadies  at  this  time,  which  appear  in  the  illuminations  to  he  composed  of  larg« 
luaniities  of  heavy  wadding  ;  and  the  satirist  takes  the  liberty  of  exaggerat- 
ing a  little. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Hire  hosen  -were  of  fyn  Scarlett  reed, 
^ul  streyte  y-teyed,  and  schoos  ful  moyste  and  newe. 
/Bold  was  hir  face,  and  fair,  and  reed  of  hewe.  460 

Sche  was  a  .worthy  wominan  al  hire  lyfe, 
Housbondes  atte  chirche  dore  hadde  sche  fyfe, 
Withouten  othur  companye  in  youthe  ; 
But  therof  needeth  nought  to  speke  as  nouthe./'v^<.ujt 
And  thries  hadde  sche  ben  at  Jerusalem  ;  .,   , 

Sche  hadde  passud  many  a  straunge  streem  ; 
At  Rome  sche  hadde  ben,  and  at  Boloyne, 
In  Galice  at  seynt  Jame,  and  at  Coloyne. 
Sche  coAvde  moche  of  wandryng  by  the  weye. 
^/Gattothud  was  sche,  sothly  for  to  seye.  470 

\L          /^tlppon  an  amblere  esely  sche  sat, 

Wymplid  fui  wel,  and  on  hire  heed  an  hat 
As  brood  as  is  a  bocler  or  a  targe  ; 
A  foot-mantel  aboute  hire  hupes  large, 
And  on  hire  feet  a  paire  of  spores  scharpe. 
In  felawschipe  wel  cowde  lawghe  and  carpe 
Of  remedyes  of  love  sche  knew  parchaunce, 
For  of  that  art  sche  knew  the  olde  daunce.    / 

A  good  man  was  ther  of  religiouri, 
And  was  a  pore  PEUSOUX  of  a  totm  ;  480 

But  riche  he  was  of  holy  thought  and  werk. 
He  was  also  a  lerned  man,  a  clerk 
That  Cristes  gospel  truly  wolde  preche  ; 
His  parischens  devoutly  wold  he  teche. 
Benigne  he  was,  and  wondur  diligent, 
And  in  adversite  ful  pacient  ; 
And  such  he  was  i-proved  ofte  sithes. 
Ful  loth  were  him  to  curse  for  his  tythes  ; 
But  rather  wolde  he  geven  out  of  dowte, 
Unto  his  pore  parissehens  aboute,  490 

Of  his  offrynge,  and  eek  of  his  substaunce. 
He  cowde  in  litel  thing  han  suffisance. 
Wyd  was  his  parisch,  and  houses  fer  asondur, 
But  he  ne  lafte  not  for  reyn  ne  thoiidur, 

89.  moyste.  One  of  the  Cambridge  MSS.  reads  so/te,  which  was,  p-erhap*, 
3  finally  a  gloss  to  moyste. 

M?2.  atte  dare/in  (lore.  The  priest  formerly  joined  the  hands  cf  tlie  couple, 
a  i  performed  a  great  part,  of  the  marriage-service  in  the  church  porob.  Se-3 
V.  niton's  History  of  English  I'octry.  ii.  2(il  (ed.  of  islu). 

W8.  Coloyne.  At  Cologne  the  bones  of  three  Kiugs  of  the  East  were  be- 
lieved to  be  preserved. 

477.  remi'dyts.  An  allusion  to  the  title  and  subject  of  Ovid's  book,  De 
llfmcdio  Ainoris. 

480.  Chaucer,  in  his  beautiful  character  of  thf  parson,  sets  up  the  industri- 
ous secular  clergy  against  the  Ir./.y  wicked  monks. 

483.  truly.  1  Lave  substituted  this  word,  which  is  found  in  most  of  th« 
other  iij*s.,'fcr  ijlud/y  the  leading  oi  the  M.-s.  Ilai  1. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 


In  siknesse  ne  in  meschief  to  visite 
The  ferrest  in  his  parissche,  nioche  and  lite, 
Uppon  his  feet,  and  in  his  hond  a  staf. 
This  noble  ensample  unto  his  scheep  he  gaf, 
That  ferst  he  wroughte,  and  after  that  he  taughte, 
Out  of  the  gospel  he  tho  wordes  caughte,  500 

And  this  figure  he  addid  yit  therto, 
That  if  gold  ruste,  what  schulde  yren  doo  ? 
For  if  a  prest  be  foul,  on  whom  we  truste, 
No  wondur  is  a  lewid  man  to  ruste  ; 
And  schame  it  is,  if  that  a  prest  take  kepe, 
A  schiten  schepperd  and  a  clene  schepe  ; 
Wei  oughte  a  prest  ensample  for  to  give, 
By  his  clennesse,  how  that  his  scheep  schulde  iyvp. 
He  sette  not  his  benefice  to  huyre, 
And  lefte  his  scheep  encombred  in  the  myre,  510 

And  ran  to  Londone,  unto  seynte  Ponies, 
To  seeken  him  a  chaunterie  forsoules, 
Or  with  a  brethurhede  be  withholde  ; 
But  dwelte  at  hoom,  and  kepte  wel  his  folde, 
So  that  the  wolf  ne  made  it  not  myscarye. 
He  was  a  schepperde  and  no  niercenarie  ; 
And  though  he  holy  were,  and  vertuous, 
He  was  to  senful  man  nought  dispitous, 
Ne  of  his  speche  daungerous  ne  digne, 
But  in  his  teching  discret  and  benigne.  520 

To  drawe  folk  to  heven  by  fairnesse, 
By  good  ensample,  was  his  busynesse  : 
But  it  were  euy  persone  obstinat, 
What  so  he  were  of  high  or  lowe  estat, 
^Hirn  wolde  he  snybbe  scharply  for  the  nones. 
/  A  bettre  preest  I  trowe  ther  nowher  noii  is. 
He  waytud  after  no  pompe  ne  reverence, 
Ne  niaked  him  a  spiced  conscience, 
But  Cristes  lore,  and  his  apostles  twelve,      , 
He  taught,  and  ferst  he  folwed  it  himselve./  533 

With  him  ther  was  a  PLOUGHMAN,  his  broth ur, 
That  hadde  i-lad  of  dong  ful  many  a  fothur. 
A  trewe  swynker  and  a  good  was  hee, 
Lyvynge  in  pees  and  parlight  charitee. 
God  loved  he  best  with  al  his  trewe  herte 
At  alle  tymes.  though  him  gained  or  smerte, 
And  thanne  his  neighebour  right  as  himselve. 
He  wolde  threisshe,  and  therto  dyke  and  deive, 
For  Cristes  sake,  with  every  pore  wight, 

.121.  fairnesse.    This  is  the  reading  of  most  of  the  MSS.    The  Ms.  Harl.  liai 
i'iit-jie,  which  seems  not  to  give  so  good  a  sense. 

a 


34  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Withouten  huyre,  if  it  lave  in  his  might.  540 

His  tythes  payede  he  ful  faire  and  wel, 
Bathe  of  his  owne  swynk  and  his  catel. 
In  a  tabbard  he  rood  upon  a  mere 

Ther  was  also  a  reeve  and  a  mellere, 
A  soinpnour  and  a  pardoner  also, 
A  maunciple,  and  my  self  ther  was  no  mo. 

The  HELLERE  was  a  atout  carl  for  the  nones, 
Ful  big  he  was  of  braun,  and  eek  of  boones  ; 
That  prevede  wel,  for  ovei  al  ther  he  cam, 
At  wrastlynge  he  wolde  bere  awey  the  ram.  550 

He  was  schort  schuldred,  broode,  a  thikke  knarre, 
Ther  nas  no  dore  that  he  nolde  heve  of  harre, 
Or  breke  it  with  a  rennyng  with  his  heed. 
His  berd  as  ony  so  we  or  fox  was  reed, 
And  therto  brood,  as  though  it  were  a  spade. 
Upon  the  cop  right  of  his  nose  he  hade 
A  werte,  and  theron  stood  a  tuft  of  heres, 
Reede  as  the  berstles  of  a  souwes  eeres. 
His  nose-thurles  blake  were  and  wyde. 
A  swerd  and  a  bocler  baar  he  by  his  side.  560 

His  mouth  as  wyde  was  as  a  gret.forneys. 
He  was  a  jarigler,  and  a  golyardeys, 
And  that  was  most  of  synne  and  harlotries. 
Wel  cowde  he  stele  corn,  and  tollen  thries  ; 
And  yet  he  hadde  a  thombe  of  gold  parde. 
A  whight  cote  and  blewe  hood  wered  he. 
A  baggepipe  cowde  he  blowe  and  sowne, 
And  therwithal  he  brought  us  out  of  towne. 

A  gentil  MAUXCIPLE  was  ther  of  a  temple, 
Of  which  achatours  mighten  take  exemple  570 

For  to  be  wys  in  beyyng  of  vitaille. 

550.  the  ram.  "This  was  the  usual  prize  at  wrestling-matches.  See  below, 
ver.  13C71  ;  and  Gamelyn,  ver.  343  and  555.  AL  Paris  mentions  a  wrestling- 
match  at  Westminster,  in  the  year  1222,  at  which  a  ram  was  the  prize."— 
Tyriwhtt. 

552.  harre.  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  oldest  and  best  MBS.  ;  bam,  a 
later  reading,  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt,  appears  to  have  originated  with  eom« 
one  who  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  oilier  word. 

564.  stele  corn.  During  the  middle  ages  millers  enjoyed,  above  all  other 
tradesmen,  the  reputation  of  being  thieves  ;  and  their  depredations  were  th« 
more  generally  felt,  as  people  in  aH  classes  of  society  carried  their  own  corn 
to  the  mill  to  be  ground,  often  in  small  quantities. 

5fi5.  a  thombe  nf  gold.  "  If  the  allusion  be,  as  is  most  probable,  to  the  old 
proverb — erert/  honest  miller  has  a  tliumli  of  gold— this  passage  mav  mean, 
that  our  miller,  notwithstanding  his  thefts,  was  an  honest  miller,— 1.  e.  an 
honest  as  his  brethren."—  Tynrhitt. 

567.  a  baggepipe.  The  bagpipe  was  a  very  popular  inntrument  of  music  in 
the  middle  ages,  and  figures  in  the  illuminated  manuscripts  of  various  coun- 
tries. In  modern  times  its  use  has  been  restricted  to  Scotland  (probably  be- 
cause minstrelsy  was  longer  preserved  there)  until  it  was  looked  upon  an  th« 
national  music  of  that  country. 


THE  PROLOGUE.  36 

For  whethur  that  he  payrle,  or  took  by  taille, 

Algate  he  way  ted  *o  in  his  acate, 

That  he  was  ay  biforn  and  in  good  state. 

Now  is  not  that  of  God  a  ful  fair  grace, 

That  such  a  lew^d  niannes  wit  sehal  pace 

The  wisdom  of  an  heep  of  lernede  men  ? 

Of  maystres  hadde  moo  than  times  ten, 

That  were  of  lawe  expert  arid  curious  ; 

Of  which  ther  were  a  doseyn  in  an  hous,  580 

Worth!  to  be  stiwardes  of  rente  and  lond 

Or  any  lord  that  is  in  Engelond, 

To  make  him  ly  ve  by  his  propre  good, 

In  honour  detteles,  but  if  he  were  wood, 

( )r  lyve  as  scarsly  as  he  can  desire ; 

And  able  for  to  helpen  al  a  schire 

In  many  caas  that  mighte  falle  or  happe ; 

And  yit  this  rnaunciple  sette  here  aller  cappe. 

The  REEVE  was  a  sklendre  colerik  man, 
His  berd  was  schave  as  neigh  as  ever  he  can.  590 

His  heer  was  by  his  eres  rounde  i-schorn. 
His  top  was  dockud  lyk  a  preest  biforn. 
Ful  longe  wern  his  leggus,  and  ful  lene, 
Al  like  a  staff,  ther  was  no  calf  y-sene. 
Wei  cowde  he  kepe  a  gerner  and  a  bynne  ; 
Ther  was  non  auditour  cowde  on  him  wynne. 
Wei  wiste  he  by  the  drought,  and  by  the  reyn. 
The  yeeldyng  of  his  seed,  and  of  his  greyn. 
His  lordes  scneep,  his  meet,  and  his  dayerie, 
His  swyn,  his  hors,  nis  stoor,  and  his  pultrie,  600 

Was  holly  in  this  reeves  governynge, 
And  by  his  covenaunt  gaf  the  rekeriynge, 
Syn  that  his  lord  was  twenti  yeer  of  age  ; 
Ther  couthe  noman  bringe  him  in  arrerage. 
Ther  nas  ballif,  ne  herde,  ne  other  hyne, 
That  they  ne  knewe  his  sleight  and  his  covyne  ; 
They  were  adrad  of  him.  as  of  the  deth. 
His  wonyng  was  ful  fair  upon  an  heth, 
With  grene  trees  i-schadewed  was  his  place. 
He  cowde  bettre  than  his  lord  purchace.  113 

Ful  riche  he  was  i-stored  prively, 
His  lord  wel  couthe  he  plese  subtilly, 
To  geve  and  lene  him  of  his  owne  good, 
And  have  a  thank,  a  cote,  and  eek  an  hood. 

B88.  tette  here  nllfr  cappe;  i.  e.  outwitted  them  all.  This  phrase  occur* 
•gain  in  the  MiLor's  Prologue. 

691.  rounde.  The  Ms.  Harl.  hns  ii-if/he  :  but  .ill  the  other  MBS.  I  have  con 
iultetl  agree  in  the  reading  I  have  a<U>uted  in  the  text. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


In  youthe  he  lerned  hadde  a  good  111  ester  ; 
He  was  a  wel  good  wright,  a  cafl-penter. 
This  reevo  sat  upon  a  wel  good  stot, 
That  was  a  poinely  gray,  and  highte  Scot. 
A  long  surcote  of  pers  uppon  he  hadde, 
And  by  his  side  he  bar  a  rusty  bladde.  6CO 

Of  Northfolk  was  this  reeve  of  which  I  telle, 
Byside  a  toun  men  callen  Baldeswelle. 
Tukkud  he  was,  as  is  a  frere,  aboute, 
And  ever  he  rood  the  hynderest  of  the  route. 
-^          A  SOMPXOUR  was  ther  with  us  in  that  plac**, 
That  hadde  a  fyr-reed  cherubynes  face, 
For  sawceflem  he  was,  with  eyghen  narwe. 
As  hoot  he  was,  and  leccherous,  as  a  sparv  ,, 
With  skalled  browes  blak,  and  piled  berd  , 
Of  his  visage  children  weren  sore  aferd.  630 

Ther  nas  quyksilver,  litarge,  ne  brimstone, 
Boras,  ceruce,  ne  oille  of  tartre  noon, 
Ne  oynement  that  wolde  dense  and  byte, 
That  him  might  helpen  of  his  whelkes  white, 
Ne  of  the  knobbes  sittyng  on  his  cheekes. 
Wel  loved  he  garleek,  oynouns,  and  ek  leekes, 
And  for  to  drinke  strong  wyn  reed  as  blood. 
Thanne  wolde  he  speke,  and  crye  as  he  were  wood. 
And  whan  that  he  wel  dronken  hadde  the  wyn, 
Then  wolde  he  speke  no  word  but  Latyn.  640 

A  few  terrnes  hadde,  he,  tuo  or  thre, 
That  he  hadde  lerned  out  of  som  decree  ; 
No  wonder  is,  he  herde  it  al  the  day, 
And  eek  ye  knowe  well,  how  that  a  jay 
Can  clepe  Watte,  as  wel  as  can  the  pope. 
But  who  so  wolde  in  othur  thine;  him  grope, 
Thanne  hadde  he  spent  al  his  philosophic, 
Ay,  Questio  quid  juris,  wolde  he  crye. 
He  was  a  gentil  harlot  and  a  kynde  ; 
A  bettre  felaw  schulde  men  nowher  fynde.  65f 

619.  pers.    The  Ms.  Ilarl.  alone  reads  blew  ;  ptrsr.  was  a  sky-blue  color. 
622.  JialdcswellK.    A  parish  in  Eynford  hundred,  Norfolk. 
-  626.  ctu-rubynes  face.     H.  Stephens,  Apol.  Herod,   i.  30,  quotes  the  Hanu 
thought  from  a  French  epigram,  — 

Nos  grands  docteurs  du  chentbhi  visage. 

648.  Questio  quid  juris.    "  This  kind  of  question  occurs  frequently  in  Kalj.  L 
d«  Hengham.    After  having  stated  a  case,  lie  adds,  rjuiil  juris?  and  thei)  pro 
ceed8  to  give  the  answer  to  it.     See  lleng.  Jlag.,  c.  xi.     Ksto  autem  quod 
r«un  nullo  modo  venerit  ad  hiinc  diem,  quid  juris?  &c.     bee  also  c.  xii."- 
Tyrwhiit. 

649.  harlot.    Chaucer  gives  us  here  an  excellent  picture  of  the  class  01 
society  to  which  this  name  was  applied  in  the  middle  ages.    See  the  Glot-s»rv 


TBE  PROLOGUE.  37 


lie  Avolde  suffre  for  a  quart  of  wyn 

A  good  felawe  to  ban  his  con  en  by  n 

A  twelve  moneth,  and  excuse  him  atte  fulle, 

And  prively  a  fynch  eek  cowde  he  pulle. 

And  if  he  fond  owher  a  good  felawe, 

tie  wolde  teehe  him  to  have  non  awe 

In  such  a  caas  of  the  archedeknes  curs  ; 

But  if  a  marines  soule  were  in  his  purs  ; 

For  in  his  purs  he  scholde  punyssched  be. 

"  Purs  is  the  ercedeknes  helle,"  quod  he.  6ftO 

But  wel  I  woot  he  lyeth  right  in  dede  ;  ,, 

Of  cursyng  oweth  ech  gulty  man  to  drede  ; 

For  curs  wol  slee  right  as  assoillyng  saveth  ; 

And  also  ware  him  of  a  signiflcamt. 

In  daunger  he  hadde  at  his  owne  assise 

The  yonge  gurles  of  the  diocise, 

And  knew  here  counseil,  and  was  al  here  red. 

A  garland  had  he  set  upon  his  heed, 

As  gret  as  it  were  for  an  ale-stake  ; 

A  bokeler  had  he  maad  him  of  a  cake.  670 

With  him  ther  rood  a  gentil  PARDOXER 
Of  Rouncival,  his  frend  and  his  comper, 
That  streyt  was  comen  from  the  court  ef  Rome. 
Ful  lowde  he  sang,  Come  hider,  love,  to  me. 
This  sompnour  bar  to  him  a  stif  burdoun, 
Was  severe  trompe  of  half  so  gret  a  soun. 
p  This  pardoner  hadde  heer  as  yelwe  as  wex, 
But  smothe  it  heng,  as  doth  a  strike  of  flex  ; 
By  unces  hynge  his  lokkes  that  he  hadde, 
And  therwith  he  his  shuldres  overspradde.  680 

Ful  therine  it  lay,  by  culpons  ori  and  oon, 
But  hood,  for  jolitee,  ne  wered  he  noon, 
For  it  was  trussud  up  in  his  walet. 
Him  thought  he  rood  al  of  the  newe  get, 
Dischevele,  sauf  his  cappe,  he  rood  al  bare. 

664.  signijicavit.    "  The  writ  de  excommunicato  capicndo,  commonly  calkJ 
31  signijicavit,  from  the  beginning  of  the  writ,  which  is  as  follows  :  Ilex  vice- 
cintiiti  L.  salu/em.     Signitieavit  nobis  vencrab'dis  pater  II.  L.,  episc.ipus,  &c. 
Cod.  Jur.  Kcc.,  p.  W5l."—Ti/ru-liitl. 

665.  in  daunger.    The  old  meaning  of  the  word  dartgrr  was  jurisdiction, 
or  dominion  whereby  persons  were  liable  to  line  for  certain  olt'ences  to  him 
ii)  whose  danger  they  were.     Most  of  the  jiss.  have  yise  instead  of  assise. 

674.  Come  hidcr,  love,  to  mi;.     Probably  the  burden  of  a  popular  song. 

675.  bar  .  .  .  n  stif  burdoun.    "  Sang  the  bass.    See  ver.  4163,  and  Ducange 
in  v.  liurdo." — Tynr/iitt. 

684.  newe  get.    New  fashion.    Tyrwhitt  has  illustrated  this  phrase  bv  t 
pusage  from  Occleve's  poem,  J)e  rtgimine  princlpis  : — 


Also  ther  is  another  ntwe  gette, 
A.'  fi.ule  waste  oi  cloth  and  exc< 


:cessif. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Suche  glaryng  eyghen  hadde  ho  as  an  hare. 
A  vernicle  hadde  he  sowde  on  his  cappe. 
His  walet  lay  byforn  him  in  his  lappe, 
Bret  ful  of  pardoun  come  from  Rome  al  hoot.  //" 
A  voys  he  hadde  as  smale  as  eny  goot.  890 

No  berd  ne  hadde  he,  ne  never  scholde  have, 
As  srnothe  it  was  as  it  ware  late  i-schave  • 
I  trowe  he  were  a  geldyng  or  a  ?aare. 
But  of  his  craft,  fro  Berwyk  unto  Ware, 
Ne  was  ther  such  another  pardoner. 
For  in  his  male  he  hadde  a  pilwebeer, 
Which,  that  he  saide,  was  oure  lady  veyl : 
He  seide,  he  hadde  a  gobet  of  the  seyl 
That  seynt  Petur  hadde,  whan  that  he  wente 
Uppon  the  see,  till  Jhesu  Crist  him  hente.  700 

He  hadde  a  cros  of  latoun  ful  of  stones, 
And  in  a  glas  he  hadde  pigges  bones. 
But  with  thise  reliques,  whanrie  that  he  fand 
A  pore  persoun  dwellyng  uppon  land, 
Upon  a  day  he  gat  him  more  moneye 
Than  that  the  persoun  gat  in  monthes  tweye. 
And  thus  with  feyned  flaterie  and  japes, 
He  made  the  porsoun  and  the  people  his  apes. 
But  trewely  to  tellen  atte  laste, 

3e  was  in  churche  a  noble  ecclesiaste.  71f 

fVel  cowde  he  rede  a  lessoun  or  a  storye, 
Sut  altherbest  he  sang  an  offertorie  ; 
for  wel  wyst  he,  whan  that  song  was  songe, 
,.Ie  moste  preche,  and  wel  aiYyle  his  tunge, 
fTo  wynne  silver,  as  he  right  wel  cowde  ; 
Therfore  he  sang  ful  meriely  and  lowde. 

Now  have  I  told  you  schortly  in  a  clause 
Thestat,  tharray,  the  nombre,  and  eek  the  cause 
Why  that  assembled  was  this  companye 
In  Southwerk  at  this  gontil  ostelrie,  720 

That  liighte  the  Tabbard,  faste  by  the  Belle. 
But  now  is  tyme  to  yow  for  to  telle 
How  that  we  bare  us  in  that  ilke  night, 
Whs-n  we  wero  in  that  osrelrie  alight ; 
And  ftftur  wol  I  telle  of  oure  viage, 
And  al  the  romenaimt  of  oure  pilgrimage. 

But  ferst  I  pray  you  of  your  curtesie, 
That  yo  ne  rette  it  nat  my  vilanye, 
Though  that  I  speke  al  pleyii  in  this  matere, 
To  telle  you  here  wordes  and  here  cheere  ;  730 

T"l.  the  Belle.    Stf\re  mentions  an  inn  named  the  Bull  as  being  near  th« 
Tabard  ;  bat  1  have  found  no  mention  of  the  Bell. 


THE  PROLOGUE.  39 


Ne  though  I  speke  here  worries  propurly. 

For  this  ye  knowen  al  so  wel  as  1, 

Who  so  schal  telle  a  tale  aftur  a  man, 

He  moste  reherce,  as  neigh  as  ever  he  can, 

Every  word,  if  it  be  in  his  charge, 

Al  speke  he  never  so  rudely  no  large  ; 

Or  elles  he  moot  telle  his  tale  untrewe, 

Or  feyne  thing,  or  fynde  wordes  newe. 

He  may  not  spare,  though  he  were  his  brothur  j 

He  moste  as  wel  sey  oo  word  as  anothur.  740 

Crist  spak  himself  ful  broode  in  holy  writ, 

And  wel  ye  woot  no  vilanye  is  it. 

Eke  Plato  seith,  who  so  that  can  him  rede, 

The  wordes  mot  be  cosyn  to  the  dede. 

Also  I  pray  you  to  forge ve  it  me, 

Al  have  I  folk  nat  set  in  here  degre 

Here  in  this  tale,  as  that  thei  schulde  stonde  ; 

My  witt  is  schorte,  ye  may  well  uiidurstonde. 

Greet  cheere  made  oure  ost  us  everichon, 
And  to  the  souper  sette  he  us  anon  ;  750 

And  served  us  with  vitaille  atte  beste. 
Strong  was  the  wyn,  and  wel  to  drynke  us  leste. 
A  semely  man  oure  ooste  was  withalle 
For  to  han  been  a  marchal  in  an  halle  ; 
A  large  man  was  he  with  eyghen  stepe, 
A  fairere  burgeys  is  ther  noon  in  Chepe  : 
Bold  of  his  speche,  and  wys  and  well  i-taught, 
And  of  manhede  lakkede  he  right  naught. 
Eke  therto  he  was  right  a  niery  man, 
And  after  soper  play  en  he  bygan,  760 

And  spak  of  inyrthe  among  othur  thinges, 
Whn,n  that  we  hadde  maad  oure  rekenynges  ; 
And  sayde  thus  ;  "  Lo,  lordynges,  trewely 
Ye  ben  to  'me  right  welcome  hertily  : 
For  by  my  trouthe,  if  that  I  schal  riot  lye, 
I  ne  saugh  this  veer  so  niery  a  companye 
At  oones  in  this  herbergh  as  is  now. 
Fayn  wold  I  do  yow  inerthe,  wiste  I  how. 
And  of  a  merthe  I  am  right  now  bythought. 
To  doon  you  eese,  and  it  schal  coste  nought.  77TJ 

Ye  goon  to  Gaunt urbury  ;  God  you  speede, 
The  blisful  martir  quyte  you  youre  meede  ' 

T43.  Plato.  Tyrwhitt  thinks  that  Chaucer  took  this  sayirg  of  Piaio  from 
Boethius,  iii.  pr.  12. 

748.  schorte.  This  is  the  reading  iii  which  the  MSS.  generally  agree,  andtl 
teems  the  beet  :  the  Jls.  Karl,  reads  thynne. 

76€.  f''nepe.  Cheapside  was,  in  the  miildle  ages,  occupied  by  tLe  wealtlii 
f>n  and  most  substantial  citizens  of  London. 


40  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  wel  I  woot,  as  ye  gon  by  the  weye, 

Ye  schapen  yow  to  talkeii  and  to  pleye  ; 

For  trewely  comfort  ne  merthe  is  noon, 

To  ryde  by  the  weye  domb  as  a  stoon  ; 

And  therfore  wol  I  make  you  disport, 

As  I  seyde  erst,  and  do  you  som  confort. 

And  if  yow  liketh  alle  by  oon  assent 

Now  for  to  standen  at  my  juggement ;  199 

And  for  to  werken  as  I  schal  you  seye, 

To  morwe,  whan  ye  riden  by  the  weye, 

Now  by  my  fadres  soule  that  is  deed, 

But  ye  be  merye,  smyteth  of  myn  heed. 

Hold  up  youre  hond  withoute  more  speche." 

Oure  counseil  was  not  longe  for  to  seche  ; 

Us  thoughte  it  nas  nat  worth  to  make  it  wys, 

And  graunted  him  withoute  more  avys, 

And  bad  him  seie  his  verdite,  as  him  leste.  739 

"  Lordynges,"quoth  he,"  now  herkeneth  for  the  beste 

But  taketh  not,  I  pray  you,  in  disdayn  ; 

This  is  the  poynt,  to  speken  schort  and  playn, 

That  ech  of  yow  to  schorte  with  youre  weie, 

In  this  viage,  schal  telle  tales  tweye, 

To  Caunturburi-ward,  I  mene  it  so, 

And  horn-ward  he  schal  tellen  othur  tuo 

Of  aventures  that  ther  han  bifalle. 

And  which  of  yow  that  bereth  him  best  of  alle, 

That  is  to  seye,  that  telleth  in  this  caas 

Tales  of  best  sentence  and  of  solas,  800 

Schal  han  a  soper  at  your  alther  cost 

Here  in  this  place  sittyrige  by  this  post, 

Whan  that  we  comeii  ageyn  from  Canturbery. 

And  for  to  make  you  the  more  rnery, 

I  wol  myselven  gladly  with  you  ryde, 

Right  at  myn  owen  cost,  and  be  youre  gydo. 

And  who  so  wole  my  juggement  withseie 

Schal  paye  for  al  we  spenden  by  the  weye. 

And  if  ye  vouchesauf  that  it  be  so, 

Telle  me  arioon,  witliouten  wordes  moo,  iJil 

And  I  wole  erely  schappe  me  therfore." 

This  thing  was  graunted,  and  oure  othus  swore 

With  ful  glad  herte,  and  pruyden  him  also 

That  he  wolde  vouchesauf  for  to  doon  so, 

And  that  he  woide  ben  oure  governour. 

Arid  of  oure  tales  jugge  and  reportour, 

And  sette  a  souper  at  a  c'erteyn  prys  ; 

Arid  we  wolde  rewled  be  at  his  devys, 

IB  heygh  and  lowe  ;  and  thus  by  00*1  assent 


THE  PROLOGUE.  41 


We  been  aoorded  to  his  juggem«nt.  820 

And  therupori  the  wyn  was  fet  anoon  ; 

\Ve  dronkon,  and  to  reste  wente  echoon, 

Withouten  eny  lengere  taryinge. 

A  morwe  whan  that  the  day  bigan  to  sprynge, 

Dp  roos  o-are  ost,  and  was  onre  althur  cok, 

And  gadorud  us  togicler  alle  in  a  flok, 

And  forth  we  rideri  a  litel  more  than  paas, 

Unto  the  \vaterynge  of  seint  Thomas  : 

And  there  oure  ost  bigan  his  hors  areste, 

And  seyde  ;   "  Lordus,  herkeneth  if  yow  leste.  880 

\'e  woot  youre  forward,  arid  I  it  you  recorde. 

if  eve-song  and  morwe-eong  acorde, 

Let  so  now  who  schal  telle  ferst  a  tale. 

As  evere  I  moote  drinke  wyri  or  ale, 

Who  so  be  rebel  to  my  juggement 

Schal  paye  for  al  that  by  the  weye  is  spent. 

Now  draweth  cut,  er  that  we  forther  twynne  ; 

Which  that  hath  the  schortest  schal  bygynne." 

"Sire  knight,"  quoth  he,  "  maister  and  my  lord, 

Now  draweth  cut,  for  that  is  myn  acord.  840 

Cometh  ner,  quoth  he,  my  lady  prioresse  ; 

And  ye,  sir  clerk,  lat  be  your  schamfastnesse, 

Ne  studieth  nat ;  ley  hand  to,  every  man." 

Anon  to  drawen  every  wight  bigan, 
And  schortly  for  to  tellon  as  it  was, 
Were  it  by  aventure,  or  sort,  or  cas, 
The  soth  is  this,  the  cut  nl  to  the  knight, 
Of  which  ful  glad  and  blithe  was  every  wight ; 
And  telle  he  moste  his  tale  as  was  resouri, 
By  forward  and  by  composicioun,  850 

As  ye  han  herd  ;   what  needeth  wordes  moo  ? 
And  whan  this  goode  man  seigh  that  it  was  so, 
As  he  that  wys  was  arid  obedient 
To  kepe  his  forward  by  his  fre  assent, 
He  seyde  ;  "  Syn  I  schal  bygynne  the  game, 
What,  welcome  be  thou  cut,  a  Goddus  name ! 
Now  lat  us  ryde.  and  herkneth  what  I  seye." 

And  with  that  word  we  riden  forth  oure  weye  ; 
And  he  bigan  with  right  a  merie  chere 
His  tale,  and  seicU'  right  in  this  manere.  860 

K8.  watery  nye  of  seint  Thomas.  The  watering  of  St.  Thomas  was  at  the 
irccud  mile-stone  on 'he  old  Canterbury  road.  It  is  mentioned  not  imfre- 
VKiiitly  iu  the  early  dramatists. 

HJ7.  drtiioethcut.  Froissart  terms  this  method  t>f  drawing  lots  tirer  a  ia 
iouyue  pailte. 

MiO.  right  in  this  manere.  Tyrwhitt  reads  as  ye  ihiti  here.  andimerU  anom 
•1UT  Ulie. 


42  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


THE  KJflGHTES  TALE. 

WHILOM,  as  olde  stories  tellen  u«5, 
Ther  was  a  duk  that  highte  Theseus  ; 
Of  Athenes  he  was  lord  and  governour, 
And  in  his  tyme  swich  a  conquerour, 
That  gretter  was  ther  non  under  the  sonne. 
Ful  many  a  riche  contre  hadde  he  wonne  ; 
That  with  his  wisdarn  and  his  chivalrie 
He  conquered  al  the  regne  of  Femynye 
That  whilom  was  i-cleped  Cithea  ; 
And  weddede  the  queen  Ipolita,  870 

And  brought  hire  hoorn  with  him  in  his  contro 
With  moche  glorie  and  gret  Bolemphite, 
And  eek  hire  yonge  suster  Emelye. 
And  thus  with  victorie  and  with  melodye 
Lete  I  this  noble  duk  to  Athenes  ryde, 
And  al  his  ost,  in  arines  him  biside. 
And  certes,  if  it  nere  to  long  to  heere, 
I  wolde  hari  told  yow  fully  the  inanere, 
How  wonnen  was  the  regrie  of  Femenye 
By  Theseus,  and  by  his  chivalrye  ;  88C 

And  of  the  grete  bataille  for  the  nones 
Bytwix  Athenes  and  the  Amazones  ; 
And  how  asegid  was  Ypolita 
The  faire  hardy  quyen  of  Cithea ; 
And  of  the  feste  that  was  at  hire  weddynge, 
And  of  the  tempest  at  hire  hoom  comynge, 
But  al  that  thing  I  most  as  now  forbere. 
1  have;  God  wot,  a  large  feeld  to  ere ; 
And  "Wayke  ben  the  oxen  in  my  plough. 
The  remeriaunt  of  the  tale  is  long  inough,  890 

1  wol  not  lette  eek  rion  of  al  this  rowte. 
Lat  every  felawe  telle  his  tale  aboute, 
And  lat  see  now  who  sehal  the  soper  wynne. 
Arid  ther  I  lafte,  I  wolde  agayn  begynne. 
This  duk,  of  whom  I  make  mericioun, 

Tltf  Kniyhtes  Tale.  This  story  is  taken  from  the  Theseida  of  Boccacio, 
ahkh  was  translated  also  into  French  verse  :  but  whether  Cliaucer  used  the 
Italian  or  the  French  is  not  certain,  as  I  have  not  been  able  to  compare 
Chaucer  with  the  French.  The  English  story  differs  in  some  part*  consider- 
ably, and  is  very  much  abbreviated,  from  the  "poem  of  Boccacio.  Thei  extracts 
sriven  in  the  following  notes  are  repeated  from  Tyrwhitt.  See  Tyrwhitt's 
Introd.  Mid  Warton's  Hist,  of  Kng.  Poet. 

SC8.  Femynye.  A  medieval  name  for  the  kingdom  of  the  Amazora.  Gower 
(Conf.  Amant)  terms  Penthesilea  queen  of  Fetninec.  Cithea  is,  of  course,  a 
corruption  of  Scythia. 

<•*<;.  tempest.  Tyrwliitt  has  ti-mple,  but  I  think  his  reasons  for  thin  reading 
are  not  sufficiently  weighty  to  authorize  a  departure  from  the  text  of  the  Ms 
UarJ.,  Bupooried.  as  it  :s,  by  most  of  tho  good  iiss. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE. 


Whan  he  was  comen  almost  unto  the  toun, 

In  al  his  \vele  and  in  his  moste  pryde, 

He  was  war,  as  he  cast  his  eyghe  aside, 

Wher  that  ther  kneled  in  the  hye  weye 

A  coinpanye  of  ladies,  tweye  and  tweye,  90C 

Eeh  after  other,  clad  in  clothes  blake  ; 

Hut  such  a  cry  and  such  a  woo  they  make, 

That  in  this  world  nys  creature  lyvynge, 

That  herde  such  another  waynientynge. 

And  of  that  cry  ne  wolde  they  never  stenten, 

Til  they  the  reynes  of  his  bridel  henten. 

"  What  folk  be  ye  that  at  myn  horn  comynge 

Pertourben  so  my  feste  with  cryenge  ?" 

Quod  Theseus,  "  have  ye  so  gret  erivye 

Of  myn  honour,  that  thus  compleyne  and  crie  ?         910 

Or  who  hath  yow  misboden,  or  olfendid? 

Arid  telleth  me  if  it  may  ben  amendid  ; 

And  why  that  ye  ben  clad  thus  al  in  blak  ?  " 

The  oldest  lady  of  hem  alle  spak, 
Whan  sche  had  swowned  with  a  dedly  chere, 
That  it  was  routhe  for  to  seen  or  heere  ; 
And  seyde  ;  "  Lord,  to  whom  fortune  hath  geeen 
Victorie,  and  as  a  conquerour  lyven, 
Nought  gre\reth  us  youre  glorie  and  honour  j 
But  we  beseken  mercy  and  socour.  920 

Have  mercy  on  oure  AVOO  arid  oure  distresse. 
Som  drope  of  pitee,  thurgh  youre  gentilnesse, 
Uppon  us  wrecchede  wommen  lat  thou  falle. 
For  certus,  lord,  ther  nys  noon  of  us  alle, 
That  sche  nath  ben  a  duchesse  or  a  queene  ; 
Now  be  we  caytifs.  as  it  is  well  seene  : 
Thanked  be  fortune,  and  hire  false  wheel, 
That  noon  estat  assureth  to  ben  weel. 
Arid  certus,  lord,  to  abiden  youre  presence 
Here  in  the  temple  of  the  goddesse  Clemence  980 

We  han  ben  waytynge  al  this  fourtenight  ; 
Now  helpe  us,  lord,  syn  it  is  in  thy  might. 
I  wrecche,  which  that  \vepe  and  waylle  thus, 
Was  whilom  wyf  to  kyng  Capaiieus, 
That  starf  at  Thebes,  cursed  be  that  day  ; 
Arid  alle  we  that  ben  in  this  array, 
And  inaken  alle  this  lamentacioun, 
We  leften  alle  oure  housbondes  at  the  touu, 
Whil  that  the  sege  ther  aboute  lay. 

And  yet  the  olde  Creon.  welaway  !  940 

That  lord  is  now  of  Thebes  the  citee, 
Fulfilde  of  ire  and  of  iniquite, 


44  TEE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

He  for  despyt,  and  for  his  tyrannye, 

To  do  the  deede  bodyes  vilonye, 

Of  alle  oure  lordes,  which  that  ben  i-slawe, 

Hath  alle  the  bodies  on  an  heep  y-drawe, 

And  wol  not  suffren  hem  by  noon  assent 

Nother  to  ben  y-buried  nor  i-brent, 

But  niaketh  houndes  ete  hem  in  despite." 

And  with  that  word,  withoute  more  respite,  950 

They  fillen  gruf,  and  criden  pitously, 

"  Have  on  us  wrecched  womnien  som  mercy. 

And  lat  oure  sorwe  synken  in  thyn  herte." 

This  gentil  duke  doun  from  his  courser  sterte 

With  herte  pitous,  whan  he  herde  hem  speke. 

Him  thoughte  that  his  herte  wolde  breke, 

Whan  he  seyh  hem  so  piteous  and  so  maat, 

That  whilom  weren  of  so  gret  estat. 

And  in  his  armes  he  hem  alle  up  hente, 

And  hem  coriforteth  in  ful  good  entente  ,  960 

And  swor  his  oth,  as  he  was  trewe  knight, 

He  wolde  do  so  ferforthly  his  might 

Upon  the  tyraunt  Creon  hem  to  wreke, 

That  all  the  people  of  Grece  scholde  speke 

How  Creon  was  of  Theseus  y-served, 

As  he  that  hath  his  deth  right  wel  deserved. 

And  right  anoon,  withoute  eny  abood 

His  baner  he  desplayeth,  and  forth  rood 

To  Thebes- ward,  and  al  his  oost  bysyde  ; 

No  ner  Athenes  wolde  he  go  ne  ryde,  970 

Ne  take  his  eese  fully  half  a  day, 

But  onward  on  his  way  that  nyght  he  lay ; 

And  sente  anoon  Ypolita  the  queene, 

And  Emelye  his  yonge  suster  schene, 

Unto  the  toun  of  Athenes  to  dwelle  ; 

And  forth  he  ryt ;  ther  is  no  more  to  telle. 

The  reede  statue  of  Mars  with  spere  arid  targe 
So  schyneth  in  his  white  baner  large, 
That  alle  the  feeldes  gliteren  up  and  doun  ; 
And  by  his  baner  was  born  his  pynoun  980 

Of  gold  ful  riche,  in  which  ther  was  i-bete 
The  Miriatour  which  that  he  slough  in  Crete. 
Thus  ryt  this  duk,  thus  ryt  this  conquerour, 
And  in  his  oost  of  chevalrie  the  flour, 
Til  that  he  cam  to  Thebes,  arid  aligh^e 
Fayre  in  a  feeld  wher  as  he  thoughte  to  Qghte. 
But  schortly  for  to  speken  of  this  thing, 
With  Creon,  which  that  was  of  Thebes  kyng, 
He  faught,  and  slough  him  manly  as  a  knight 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  4fl 


In  pleyn  bataille,  and  putte  his  folk  to  flight :          99? 

And  by  assaut  he  wan  the  cite  aftnr, 

And  rente  doun  bothe  wal,  and  sparre,  and  raftur ; 

And  to  the  ladies  he  restored  agayn 

The  bones  of  here  honsbondes  that  were  slayn. 

To  do  exequies,  as  was  tho  the  gyse. 

But  it  were  al  to  long  for  to  devyse 

The  grete  clamour  and  the  waynientynge 

Which  that  the  ladies  made  at  the  brennynge 

Of  the  boclyes,  and  the  grete  honour 

That  Theseus  the  noble  conquerour  1000 

Doth  to  the  lad  yes,  whan  they  from  him  wentej 

Bu:  schorl ly  for  to  telle  is  myn  entente. 

Whan  that  this  worthy  dtik,  this  Theseus, 

Hath  Creori  slayn,  and  Thebes  wonne  thus, 

Stille  in  the  feelde  lie  took  al  night  his  reste, 

And  dide  with  al  the  contre  as  him  leste. 

To  ransake  in  the  cas  of  bodyes  dede 
Hem  for  to  streepe  of  herneys  and  of  wede, 

The  pilours  diden  businesse  and  cure, 

After  the  bataile  and  discomfiture.  1010 

And  so  byfil,  that  in  the  cas  thei  founde, 

Thurgh  girt  with  many  a  grevous  blody  wounde, 

Two  yonge  knightes  liggyng  by  and  by, 

Bothe  in  oon  armes  clad  ful  richely ; 

Of  whiche  two.  Arcite  hight  that  oon, 

And  that  othur  knight  hight  Palamon. 

Nat  fully  quyk.  ne  fully  deed  they  were, 

But  by  here  coote  armure,  and  by  here  gere, 

Heraudes  knewe  hem  wel  in  special, 

As  they  that  weren  of  the  blood  real  1020 

Of  Thebes,  and  of  sistren  tuo  i-born. 

Out  of  the  chaas  the  pilours  han  hem  torn, 

And  han  hem  caried  softe  unto  the  teute 

Of  Theseus,  and  ful  sone  he  hem  sente 

Tathenes,  for  to  dwellen  in  prisoim 

Perpetuelly,  lie  wolde  no  raunceoun. 

And  this  duk  whan  he  hadde  thus  i-doon, 

He  took  his  host,  and  horn  he  ryt  anoon 

With  laurer  crowned  as  a  conquerour  ; 

And  there  he  lyveth  in  joye  and  in  honour  1080 

Terine  of  his  Ij'f ;  what  wolle  ye  wordes  moo  ? 

And  in  a  tour,  in  angwische  and  in  woo, 

This  Palamon,  and  his  felawe  Arcite, 

For  evenuo,  ther  may  no  gold  hem  quyte. 

This  passeth  veer  by  veer,  and  day  by  day, 
1007.  cas.    So  the  other  best  M.-J.S.     Tvnvljitt  lias  substitute^  las.  j  neap. 


46  THE  CANTE~RBUET  TALES. 

Till  it  fel  oones  in  a  morwe  of  May 

That  Emelief,  that  fairer  was  to  seene 

Than  is  the  lilie  on  hire  stalkes  grene, 

And  fresscher  than  the  May  -with  floures  newe — 

For  with  the  rose  colour  strof  hire  hewe,  1C40 

I  not  which  was  the  fyner  of  hern  two — 

Er  it  was  day,  as  sche  was  wont  to  do, 

Sche  was  arisen,  and  al  redy  dight. 

For  May  wole  have  no  sloggardye  a  nigh*.  ; 

The  sesoun  priketh  every  gentil  herte, 

And  inaketh  him  out  of  his  sleepe  sterte, 

And  seith,  "  Arys,  and  do  thin  observance.'' 

This  maked  Emelye  han  remembrance 

To  do  honour  to  May,  and  for  to  ryse. 

I-clothed  was  sche  fressh  for  to  devyse.  1050 

Hire  yolwe  heer  was  browdid  in  a  tresse, 

Byhynde  hire  bak,  a  yerde  long  I  gesse. 

And  in  the  gardyn  at  the  sonne  upriste 

Sche  walketh  up  and  doun  wher  as  hire  liste. 

Sche  gadereth  floures,  partye  whyte  and  reede, 

To  make  a  certeyn  gerland  for  hire  heede 

And  as  an  aungel  heverily  sche  song. 

The  grete  tour,  that  was  so  thikke  and  strong, 

Which  of  the  castel  was  the  cheef  dorigeoun. 

(Ther  as  this  knightes  weren  in  prisoun,  %  1064 

Of  which  I  tolde  yow,  and  telle  schal) 

Was  evene  joynyng  to  the  gardeyn  wal, 

Ther  as  this  Emely  hadde  hire  pleyyng. 

Bright  was  the  sonne,  and  cleer  that  morwenynge, 

And  Palamon,  this  woful  prisoner, 

As  was  his  worie,  by  leve  of  his  gayler 

Was  risen,  and  romed  \n  a  chambre  on  heigh, 

In  which  he  al  the  noble  cite  seigh, 

And  eek  the  gardeyn,  ful  of  braunches  grene, 

Ther  as  the  fresshe  Emelye  the  scheene  107G 

Was  in  liire  walk,  and  romed  up  and  doun. 

This  sorweful  prisoner,  this  Palamon, 

Gooth  in  the  chambre  romyng  to  and  fro, 

1M9.  to  do  honour  to  ^fay.  The  carl3'  English  poets  are  full  of  allusion* 
U>  the  popular  reverence  paid  to  the  month  of  May,  derived  from  the  Pagan 
ages  of  our  forefathers-  Traces  of  these  superstitions  still  remain  in  the 
custom  in  different  parts  of  the  country  of  going  a-inaying  on  the  morning  or 
the  lirst  day  of  the  mouth.  Such  customs  are  repeatedly  alluded  to  in  Chau 
cer. 

1059.  dongemin.  The  dongeon  was  the  grand  tower  of  the  earlier  castles  ; 
and  beneath  it,  under  ground,  was  the  prison.  As  the  castles  \vero  enlarged, 
the  dongeon,  or  keep-tower,  being  the  strongest  part  of  the  fortress,  was 
frequently  made  the  resilience  of  prisoners  of  higher  rank,  who  were  not 
thrown  into  the  subterranean  vault*,  ileueo  the  modern  use  of  the  word 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  4V 


And  to  himself  compleynyng  of  his  woo  ; 

That  he  was  born,  ful  ofte  he  seyd,  alas  ! 

And  so  byfel,  by  aventure  or  cas, 

Thatthurgh  a  wyndow  thikke  and  many  a 

Of  iren  greet  and  squar  as  eny  sparre, 

He  cast  his  eyen  upon  Emelya, 

And  therwithal  he  bleynte  and  cryed,  a !  1)80 

As  that  he  stongeii  were  unto  the  herte. 

And  with  that  crye  Arcite  anon  up  sterte, 

And  seyde,  "  Cosyn  inyn,  what  eyleth  the, 

That  art  so  pale  and  deedly  for  to  see  ? 

Why  crydestow  ?   who  hath  the  doon  offence? 

For  Goddes  love,  tak  al  in  pacience 

Oure  prison n,  for  it  may  non  othir  be  ; 

Fortune  hath  geven  us  this  adversite. 

Soin  wikke  aspect  or  disposicioun 

Of  Saturne,  by  sum  constellacioun,  1090 

Hath  geven  us  this,  although  we  hadde  it  sworn  ; 

So  stood  the  heven  whan  that  we  were  born  ; 

We  moste  endure  it :  this  is  the  schort  and  pleyn." 

This  Palamoii  answered,  and  seyde  ageyn, 
"  Cosyn,  for  sothe  of  this  opynyoun 
Thou  hast  a  veyn  ymaginacioun. 
This  prisoun  caused  me  not  for  to  crye. 
But  I  was  hurt  right  now  thurgh  myn  yhe 
Into  myn  herte,  that  wol  my  bane  be.4 
The  fairness  of  the  lady  that  I  see  1100 

Yonde  in  the  gardyn  roine  to  and  fro, 
Is  cause  of  my  cryying  and  my  wo. 
I  riot  whethur  sche  be  womman  or  goddesse  ; 
But  Venus  is  it,  sothly  as  I  gesse." 
And  therwithal  on  knees  adoun  he  fll, 
And  seyde  :   "  Venus,  if  it  be  youre  wil 
Yow  in  this  gardyn  thus  to  transfigure, 
Biforn  me  sorwful  wrecched  creature, 
Out  of  this  prisoun  help  that  we  may  scape. 
And  if  so  be  oure  destine  be  schape  1111 

By  eterne  word  to  deyen  in  prisoun, 
Of  oure  lynage  haveth  sum  compassioun, 
That  is  so  lowe  y-brought  by  tyrannye." 
And  with  that  word  Arcite  gan  espye 
Wher  as  this  lady  romed  to  and  fro. 
And  with  that  sight  hire  beauto  hurt  him  so, 

1090.  Saturne.  According  to  the  old  astrological  system,  this  was  a  very 
Mpropitious  sta»  to  bo  born  under.  It  may  he  observed,  that  in  the  present 
•tory  there  is  a  constant  allusion  u>  medieval  astrology,  which  could  not  b4 
<ully  illustrated  without  lun^  notes. 


«8  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  if  that  Palamon  was  wounded  sore, 

Arcite  is  hurt  as  inoche  as  he,  or  more. 

And  with  a  sigh  he  seyde  pitously  : 

"  The  freissche  beautc  sleeth  me  sodeynly  11)0 

Of  hir  that  rometh  yonder  in  the  place  ; 

And  bu    I  have  hir  mersy  arid  hir  grace, 

That  1  may  see  hir  atte  leste  "\veye, 

I  nani  but  deed  ;  ther  nys  no  more  to  seye." 

This  Palamon,  whan  he  tho  wordes  herde, 

Dispitously  he  loked,  and  answerde  : 

"  Whether  seistow  in  ernest  or  in  pley  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  quoth  Arcite,  "  in  ernest,  in  good  fey. 

God  helpe  me  so,  me  lust  ful  evele  pleye." 

This  Palamon  gan  kriytte  his  browes  tweye  :  11  SO 

"  It  nere,"  quod  he,  "  to  the  no  gret  honoui, 

For  to  be  fals,  ne  for  to  be  tray  tour 

To  me,  that  am  thy  cosyn  and  thy  brother 

I-swore  ful  deepe,  and  ech  of  us  to  other, 

That  never  for  to  deyen  in  the  payne, 

Til  that  deeth  departe  schal  us  twayne, 

Neyther  of  us  in  love  to  hynder  other, 

Ne  in  non  other  cas,  my  leeve  brother  ; 

But  that  thou  schuldest  trewly  forther  me 

In  every  caas,  and  I  schal  forther  the.  1140 

This  was  thyn  othe,  and  myn  eek  certayn  ; 

I  wot  right  wel,  thou  darst  it  nat  withsayn. 

Thus  art  thou  of  my  counseil  out  of  doute. 

And  now  thou  woldest  falsly  ben  aboute 

To  love  my  lady,  whom  I  love  and  serve, 

And  evere  schal,  unto  myn  herte  sterve. 

Now  certes,  fals  Arcite,  thou  schal  not  so. 

I  loved  hir  first,  and  tolde  the  my  woo 

As  to  my  counseil,  and  to  brother  sworn 

To  forther  me,  as  I  have  told  biforn,  1150 

For  which  thou  art  i-boundeii  as  a  knight 

To  help  me,  if  it  lay  in  thi  might, 

Or  elles  art  thou  fals,  I  dar  wel  sayn." 

This  Arcite  ful  proudly  spak  agayn. 

"  Thou  schalt,"  quoth  he,  "  be  rather  fals  than  I. 

1134.  I-swore.  It  was  a  common  practice  in  the  middle  ages  for  persoru  to 
take,  formal  oaths  of  fraternity  and  friendship,  and  a  breach  of  tlie  oath  was 
considered  something  worse  than  perjury.  This  incident  enters  into  the  plot* 
of  Borne  of  the  medieval  romances.  A  curious  example  will  be  found  ia  th« 
Romance  of  Athclston,  Keliq.  Antiq.  ii.  p.  8j>. 

113.0.  deyen  in  the  pn\inc.  This  nppear.s  to  have  been  a  proverbial  expres- 
lion  taken  from  the  French.  In  Froissart,  as  cited  by  Tyrwhitt,  Kdward  111. 
l<  made  to  declare  that  he  would  bring  the  war  to  a  successful  issue,  or  U 
mourroit  en  ii  /  rnit.. 

V    'ove.    ""\e  Hart.  Ms.  has  lande. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  49 


But  them  art  fals,  I  telle  the  uttirly. 

For  par  amour  I  loved  hir  first  then  thow. 

What  wolt  thou  sayn  ?  thou  wost  not  yit  now 

Whether  sche  be  a  woinman  or  goddesse, 

Thyn  is  affeccioun  of  holynesse,  1160 

And  niyn  is  love,  as  of  a  creature  ; 

For  which  I  tolde  the  myn  aventure 

As  to  my  cosyn,  and  niy  brother  sworn. 

I  pose,  that  thou  lovedest  hire  biforn  ; 

Wost  thou  nat  wel  the  olde  clerkes  sawe, 

That  who  schal  geve  a  lover  eny  lawe, 

Love  is  a  grettere  lawe,  by  my  pan, 

Then  may  be  geve  to  eny  erthly  man  ? 

Therefore  posityf  lawe,  and  such  decre, 

Is  broke  alway  for  love  in  ech  degree.  1170 

A  man  moot  needes  love  maugre  his  heed. 

He  may  nought  lie  it,  though  he  schulde  be  deed, 

Al  be  sche  inayde,  or  be  sche  widewe  or  wyf . 

And  that  it  is  nat  likly  al  thy  lyf 

To  stonden  in  hire  grace,  no  more  schal  I ; 

For  wel  thou  wost  thyselveri  verrily, 

That  thou  and  I  been  dampned  to  prisoun 

Perpetuelly,  us  gayneth  noraunsoun. 

We  stryve,  as  doth  the  houndes  for  the  boon, 

They  foughte  al  day,  and  yit  here  part  was  noon  , 

Ther  com  a  kyte,  whil  that  they  were  wrothe, 

And  bar  awey  the  boon  bitwise  hem  bothe. 

And  therfore  at  the  kynges  court,  my  brother, 

Eche  man  for  himself,  there  is  non  other. 

Love  if  the  list ;  for  I  love  and  ay  schal ; 

And  sothly,  leeve  brother,  this  is  al. 

Eke  in  this  prisoun  moote  we  endure, 

And  every  of  us  take  his  adventure." 

Gret  was  the  stryf  and  long  bytwixe  hem  tweye, 

If  that  I  hadde  leysir  for  to  seye ;  1190 

But  to  the  effect,  it  happed  on  a  day, 

(To  telle  it  yow  as  schortiy  as  I  may) 

A  worthy  duk  that  highte  Perotheus, 

That  fellaw  was  to  the  duk  Theseus 

Syn  thilke  day  that  they  were  children  lyte, 

1166.  the  old  clerkes  sawe.  Boethius,  who  says,  In  his  treatise  De  CbntolM 
Philos.  lib.  Ui.  met.  12,— 

Quis  legetn  dot  amautibus? 
Major  lex  amor  est  sibi. 

1179.  hwmiles.  This  is  a  medieval  fable  which  I  have  not  met  with 
•Isewhere,  though  it  may  probably  be  found  -in  some  of  the  inediteJ  col- 
toctiona. 

4 


60  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"W  as  come  to  Athenes,  his  felawe  to  visite, 

And  for  to  pley,  as  he  was  wont  to  do, 

For  in  this  world  he  loved  noman  so  : 

And  he  loved  him  as  tendurly  agayn. 

So  wel  they  loved,  as  olde  bookes  sayn,  1200 

That  whan  that  oon  was  deed,  sothly  to  telle, 

His  felawe  wente  and  sought  him  doun  in  helle  \ 

But  of  that  story  lyst  me  nought  to  write. 

Duk  Perotheus  loved  wel  Arcite, 

And  hadde  him  knowe  at  Thebes  yeer  by  yeer  ; 

And  fynally  at  requeste  and  prayer 

Of  Perotheus,  withoute  any  raunsoun 

Duk  Theseus  him  leet  out  of  prisoun, 

Frely  to  go,  wher  him  lust  over  al, 

In  such  a  gyse,  as  I  you  telle  schal.  1210 

This  was  the  forward,  playnly  to  endite, 

Betwixe  Theseus  and  him  Arcite : 

That  if  so  were,  that  Arcite  were  founde 

Evere  in  his  lyf,  by  daye  or  night,  o  stound 

In  eny  contre  of  this  Theseus, 

And  he  were  caught,  it  was  acorded  thus, 

That  with  a  swerd  he  scholde  lese  his  heed ; 

Ther  nas  noon  other  remedy  ne  reed, 

But  took  his  leeve,  and  homeward  he  him  spedde  ; 

Let  him  be  war,  his  nekke  lith  to  wedde.  1220 

How  gret  a  sorwe  suffreth  now  Arcite  ! 
The  deth  he  feleth  thorugh  his  herte  smyte  ; 
He  weepeth,  weyleth,  cryeth  pitou^ly  ; 
To  slen  himself  he  wayteth  pryvyly. 
He  seyde,  "  Alias  the  day  that  I  was  born  I 
Now  is  my  prisoun  werse  than  was  biforne  ; 
Now  is  me  schape  eternally  to  dwelle 
Nought  in  purgatorie,  but  in  helle. 
Alias  !  that  ever  kuewe  I  Perotheus ! 
For  elles  had  I  dweld  with  Theseus  3230 

I-fetered  in  his  prisoun  for  evere  moo. 
Than  had  I  ben  in  blis,  and  nat  it  woo. 
Oonly  the  sight  of  hir,  whom  that  I  serve, 
Though  that  I  hir  grace  may  nat  deserve, 
Wold  han  sufficed  right  ynough  for  me. 
O  dere  cosyn  Palamon,"  quod  he, 
"  Thyn  is  the  victoire  of  this  aventure, 
Ful  blisfully  in  prisoun  to  endure  ; 
In  prisoun  ?  nay,  certes  but  in  paradys  ! 
Wel  hath  fortune  y-torned  the  the  dys,  1240 

(202.  in  helle.    An  allusion  to  the  classic  story  of  Tlieweu*  and  Pirlthont 


TffE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  51 


That  hath  the  sight  of  hir,  and  I  the  absence. 

For  possible  is,  syn  thou  hast  hir  presence, 

And  art  a  knight,  a  worthi  and  an  able, 

That  by  som  cas,  syn  fortune  is  chaungable, 

Thou  maist  to  thy  desir  sointyine  atteyne. 

But  I  that  am  exiled,  and  bareyne 

Of  alle  grace,  and  in  so  gret  despair, 

That  ther  nys  water,  erthe,  fyr,  ne  eyr, 

Ne  creature,  that  of  hem  maked  is, 

That  may  nie  helpe  ne  comfort  in  this.  1250 

Wei  ought  I  sterve  in  wanhope  and  distresse  ; 

Farwel  my  lyf  and  al  my  jolynesse. 

Alias,  why  playnen  folk  so  in  comune 

Of  purveance  of  God,  or  of  fortune, 

That  geveth  hem  ful  ofte  in  many  a  gyse 

Wei  better  than  thei  can  hemself  devyse  ? 

Som  man  desireth  for  to  have  richesse, 

That  caus  is  of  his  morthre  or  gret  seeknesse. 

And  som  man  wolde  out  of  his  prisoun  fayn, 

That  in  his  hous  is  of  his  mayne  slayn.  1260 

Infinite  harines  ben  in  this  mateere  ; 

We  wote  nevere  what  thing  we  prayen  heere. 

We  faren  as  he  that  dronke  is  as  a  mows. 

A  dronke  man  wot  wel  he  hath  an  hous, 

But  he  not  nat  which  the  righte  wey  is  thider, 

And  to  a  dronke  man  the  wey  is  slider, 

And  certes  in  this  world  so  faren  we. 

We  seeken  faste  after  felicite, 

But  we  gon  wrong  ful  ofte  trewely. 

Thus  may  we  seyen  alle,  namely  I,  1270 

Tha    weride  have  had  a  gret  opinioun, 

Tha:  gif  I  mighte  skape  fro  prisoun, 

Than  had  I  be  in  joye  and  parfyt  hele, 

Ther  now  I  am  exiled  fro  my  wele. 

Syu  that  I  may  not  se  yow,  Emelye, 

I  nam  but  deed  ;  ther  nys  no  remedye." 

Uppon  that  other  syde  Palamon, 
Whan  he  wiste  that  Arcite  was  agoon, 
Such  sorwe  inaketh,  that  the  grete  tour 
Resowneth  of  his  yollyrig  and  clamour.  1280 

The  pure  feteres  of  his  schynes  grete 
Weren  of  his  bitter  salte  teres  wete. 
"Alias!"  quod  he,   "  Arcita,  cosyn  myn, 
Of  al  oure  strif,  God  woot,  the  fruyt  is  thin. 
Thow  walkest  now  in  Thebes  at  thi  large, 

1264.  a  dronke  man.    From  Boethius  J)e  Consul,  lib.  iii.  pr.  2.  "  Bed  T«1»J 
•briuB,  domum  quo  tramite  revertatur  ignorat." 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  of  my  woo  thou  gevest  litel  charge. 

Thou  maiste,  syn  thou  hast  wysdom  arid  manhede, 

Assemble  al  the  folk  of  oure  kynrede, 

And  make  a  werre  so  scharpe  in  this  cite, 

That  by  soin  aventure,  or  by  som  trete,  1290 

Thou  mayst  hire  wynne  to  lady  and  to  wyf , 

For  whom  that  I  most  needes  leese  my  lyf. 

For  as  by  wey  of  possibilite, 

Syn  thou  art  at  tin  large  of  prisoun  free, 

And  art  a  lord,  gret  is  thin  avantage, 

More  than  is  myn,  that  sterve  here  in  a  kage. 

For  I  moot  weepe  and  weyle,  whil  I  lyve, 

With  al  the  woo  that  prisoun  may  me  gyve, 

And  eek  with  peyne  that  love  me  e;eveth  also, 

That  doubleth  al  my  torment  and  my  wo."  1300 

Therwith  the  fuyr  of  jelousye  upsterte 

Withinne  his  brest,  and  hent  him  by  the  herte 

So  wodly,  that  lik  was  he  to  byholde 

The  box-tree,  or  the  asschen  deed  and  colde. 

Tho  seyde  he  ;   "  O  goddes  cruel,  that  governe 

This  world  with  byndyng  of  youre  word  eterne, 

And  writen  in  the  table  of  athamaunte 

Youre  parlenient  arid  youre  eterne  graunte, 

What  is  mankyride  more  to  yow  holde 

Than  is  a  scheep,  that  rouketh  in  the  folde  ?  1310 

For  slayn  is  man  right  as  another  beste, 

And  dwelleth  eek  in  prisoun  arid  arreste, 

And  hath  seknesse,  and  greet  adversite, 

And  ofte  tymes  gilteles,  parde. 

What  governaunce  is  in  youre  prescience, 

That  gilteles  tormenteth  innocence  ? 

And  yet  ericreceth  this  al  my  penaunce, 

That  man  is  bounden  to  his  observaunce 

For  Goddes  sake  to  letten  of  his  wille, 

Ther  as  a  beste  may  al  his  lust  fullille.  \  330 

And  whan  a  beste  is  deed,  he  ne  hath  no  peyne  ; 

But  man  after  his  deth  moot  wepe  and  pleyne, 

Though  in  this  Avorld  he  have  care  and  woo  : 

Withouten  doute  it  may  stonde  so. 

The  answer  of  this  I  lete  to  divinis, 

But  wel  I  woot,  that  in  this  world  gret  pyne  is. 

Alias  I  I  se  a  serpent  or  a  theef, 

That  many  a  trewe  man  hath  doon  mescheef, 

Gon  at  his  large,  arid  wher  him  lust  may  turrit* 

But  I  moste  be  in  prisoun  tlmrgh  Saturne, 

And  eek  thorugh  Juno,  jalous  arid  eke  wood, 

That  hath  destruyed  wel  neyJa  a-1  the  blood 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  58 


Of  Thebes,  with  his  waste  walles  wyde. 
And  Venus  sleeth  me  on  that  other  syde 
For  jelousye,  and  fere  of  him  Arcyte." 

Now  wol  I  stynte  of  Palamon  a  lite, 
And  lete  him  stille  in  his  prisoun  dwelle, 
And  of  Arcita  forth  than  wol  I  telle. 
The  somer  passeth,  and  the  nightes  longe 
Encrescen  double  wise  the  peynes  stronge  1340 

Bothe  of  the  lover  and  the  prisoner. 
I  noot  which  hath  the  wofullere  cheer. 
For  schortly  for  to  sey,  this  Palamon 
Perpetuelly  is  dampried  to  prisoun, 
In  cheynes  and  in  feteres  to  be  deed  ; 
And  Arcite  is  exiled  upon  his  heed 
For  evere  mo  as  out  of  that  contro, 
Ne  nevere  mo  he  schal  his  lady  see. 
Now  lovyeres  axe  I  this  question, 

Who  hath  the  worse,  Arcite  or  Palamon  ?  1350 

That  on  may  se  his  lady  day  by  day, 
But  in  prisoun  he  moot  dwelle  alway. 
That  other  may  wlier  him  lust  ryde  or  go, 
But  seen  his  lady  schal  he  never  mo. 
Now  deemeth  as  you  luste,  ye  that  can, 
For  I  wol  telle  forth  as  I  bigan. 

Whan  than  Arcite  to  Thebes  come  was, 
Ful  ofte  a  day  he  swelde  and  seyde  alas, 
For  seen  his  lady  schal  he  never  mo. 
And  schortly  to  concluden  al  his  wo,  1360 

So  inoehe  sorwe  had  never  creature, 
That  is  or  schal  whil  that  the  world  wol  dure. 
His  sleep,  his  mete,  his  dryrik  is  him  byraft, 
That  lene  he  wexe,  and  drye  as  eny  schaft. 
His  eyen  holwe,  grisly  to  biholde  ; 
His  hewe  falwe,  and  pale  as  asschen  colde, 
And  solitary  he  w;is,  and  ever  alone, 
And  dwellyng  all  the  night,  making  his  moone. 
And  if  he  herde  song  or  instrument  I3G9 

Then  wolde  lie  wepe,  he  mighte  nought  be  stent. 
So  feble  wore  his  spirites,  and  so  lowe, 
And  chaunged  so,  that  no  man  couthe  knowe 
His  speche  not  her  his  vois,  though  men  it  herde. 
And  in  his  gir,  for  all  the  world  lie  ferde 
Nought  oonly  lyke  the  lovers  maladye 
Of  Hercos.  but  rather  lik  manye, 
Engendrud  of  humour  malencolyk, 

•349.  this  question.    An  implied  allusion  to  the  medieval  courts  of  love,  l» 
which  questions  of  this  kind  were  seriously  discussed. 


54  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Byforne  in  his  sejle  fantastyk. 

And  sehortly  turned  was  al  up-so-doun 

Bothe  abyt  and  eek  disposicioun  1380 

Of  him,  this  woful  lovere  daun  Arcite. 

What  schulde  I  alway  of  his  wo  endite  ? 

Whan  he  endured  hadde  a  yeer  or  tuoo 

This  cruel  torment,  and  this  peyne  and  woo, 

At  Thebes,  in  his  centre,  as  I  seydo, 

Upon  a  night  in  sleep  as  he  him  leyde, 

Him  thought  that  how  the  wenged  god  Mercurio 

Byforn  him  stood,  and  bad  him  to  be  murye. 

Hie  slepy  yerd  in  hond  he  bar  upright ; 

A*J  hat  he  wered  upon  his  heres  bright.  1890 

A  rrayed  was  this  god  (as  he  took  keepe) 

As  he  was  whan  that  Argous  took  his  sleep  ; 

And  seyde  him  thus :  "  To  Athenes  schalt  thou  weude; 

Ther  is  the  schapen  of  thy  wo  an  ende." 

And  with  that  word  Arcite  wook  and  sterte. 

"  Now  trewely  how  sore  that  me  smerte," 

Quod  he,  "  to  Athenes  right  now  wol  I  fare  ; 

Ne  for  the  drede  of  deth  schal  I  not  spare 

To  see  my  lady,  that  I  love  and  serve ; 

In  hire  presence  I  recche  nat  to  sterve."  1400 

And  with  that  word  he  caught  a  gret  myrour, 

And  saugh  that  chaunged  was  al  his  colour, 

And  saugh  his  visage  was  in  another  kynde. 

And  right  anoon  it  ran  him  into  mynde, 

That  sethtben  his  face  was  so  disfigured 

Of  maladie  the  which  he  hath  endured, 

He  mighte  wel,  if  that  he  bar  him  lowe, 

Lyve  in  Athenes  evere  more  unknowe, 

And  see  his  lady  wel  neih  day  by  day. 

And  right  anon  he  chaunged  his  aray,  410 

And  clothed  him  as  a  pore  laborer. 

1378.  in  his  selle  fantastyk.  Tyrwhitt  reads,  J'eforne  his  hed  in  his  celle 
fai'.tastike.  The  division  of  the  brain  into  cells,  according  to  the  different 
sensitive  faculties,  is  very  ancient,  and  is  found  depicted  in  medieval  manu- 
scripts. It  was  a  rude  forerunner  of  the  science  of  phrenology.  The 'fan- 
tastic cell '  (fantasia)  was  in  front  of  the  head.  In  Ms.  Harl.  No.  4025,  is  a 
treatise  entitled  Liber  Thesauri  Occult  i,  in  which  (fol.  5  vo.)  we  are  informed: 
"  Kt  est  in  cerebro  rationativa,  in  corde  irascibilis  vel  inspirativa,  in  epata 
voluntaria  vel  concupiscibilis  ....  Verumptamen  certum  est  in  proia  cere- 
bri  esse  fantasiam,  in  medio  rationem  discretion!?,  in  puppi  memoriam  ; 
quarum  si  aliqua  natural!  inlirmitate  vel  percussione  desipuerit  et  maxima 
memoria,  prorsua  et  sompnia  perempta  sunt,  si  ratio  vel  fantasia  vero  de- 
gtructa,  gompnia  quoquo  niodo  ex  memoria  remanserunt.  Si  itaque  homo 
multa  per  sompnium  saepe  viderit  et  oblitus  fuerit  ea  quae  vidit,  scito  memo- 
rialem  partem  cerebri  ejus  tenebrositaw  et  obscuntate  detentam  esse.  Sim- 
iliter  de  ratione  vel  judicio  et  fantasia  praeiudicandum  est,  et  iniirmitati 
futurae  praecavendum." 

1384.  I  re'ain  I'yrwhitt's  reading  of  this  line,  which  in  the  H;irl.  Ms.  ruust 
In  tins  cruel  'arment,  peyne,  and  woo. 


THE  KN1GHTES  TALE.  55 


\nd  al  alone,  save  oorily  a  squyer, 

That  knew  his  pryvyte  and  al  his  cas, 

Which  was  disgysed  povrely  as  he  was, 

To  Athenes  is  he  go  the  nexte  way. 

And  to  the  court  he  went  upon  a  day, 

And  at  the  gate  lie  profred  his  servyse, 

To  drugge  and  drawe,  what  so  men  wolde  devyse. 

And  sohortly  of  this  matier  for  to  seyn, 

He  fel  in  office  with  a  chambirleyn,  1420 

The  which  that  dwellyng  was  with  Eruelye. 

Foi  he  was  wys,  and  couthe  sone  aspye 

Of  every  servaunt,  which  that  served  here. 

Wei  couthe  he  hewe  woode,  and  water  bere, 

For  he  was  yonge  and  mighty  for  the  nones, 

And  therto  he  was  strong  and  bygge  of  bones 

To  doon  that  eny  wight  can  him  devyse. 

A  yeer  or  two  he  was  in  this  servise, 

Page  of  the  chambre  of  Emelye  the  bright ; 

And  Philostrate  he  seide  that  he  hight.  1430 

But  half  so  wel  beloved  a  man  as  he, 

Ne  was  ther  never  in  court  of  his  degree. 

He  was  so  gentil  of  his  condicioun, 

That  thorughout  al  the  court  was  his  reuoun. 

They  seyde  that  it  were  a  charite 

That  Theseus  wolde  enhaunsen  his  degree, 

And  putten  him  in  worschipful  servyse, 

Ther  as  he  might  his  vertu  excersise. 

And  thus  within  a  while  his  name  spronge 

Bothe  of  his  dedes,  and  of  goode  tonge,  1440 

That  Theseus  hath  taken  him  so  iieer 

That  of  his  chambre  he  made  him  squyer, 

And  gaf  him  gold  to  mayntene  his  degree  ; 

And  eek  men  brought  him  out  of  his  countre 

Fro  yeer  to  yer  f  ul  pry  vyiy  his  rente, 

But  honestly  and  sleighly  he  it  spente, 

That  no  man  wondred  how  that  he  it  hadde. 

And  thre  yeer  in  this  wise  his  lyf  he  ladde, 

Ani  bar  him  so  in  pees  and  eek  in  werre, 

Ther  nas  no  man  that  Theseus  hath  so  derre.  1450 

And  in  this  blisse  lete  1  now  Arcite, 

And  speke  I  wole  of  Palamoii  a  lyte. 

In  derknes  and  orrible  and  strong  prisoun 
This  seven  yeer  hath  seteri  Palamoii, 
Forpyned,  what  for  woo  and  for  destresse. 
Who  feleth  double  sorwe  and  hevynesse  • 

1439.  within.    The  Ms.  Harl.  reals  incorrectly  tcithinne,  which  is  tk«  M> 
»«rbiftl  form  of  tbe  preposition. 


66  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


But  Palaraon  ?  that  love  destreyneth  so, 

That  wood  out  of  his  witt  he  goth  for  wo, 

And  eek  therto  he  is  a  prisoner 

Perpetuelly,  nat  oonly  for  a  yeer.  1460 

Who  couthe  ryme  in  Eriglissch  propurly 

His  martirdam  ?  for  sothe  it  am  nat  I  ; 

Therfore  I  passe  as  lightly  as  I  may. 

It  fel  that  in  the  seventhe  yeer  in  May 

The  thridde  night,  (as  olde  bookes  seyn, 

That  al  this  storie  tellen  more  pleyn) 

Were  it  by  aveiiture  or  destene, 

(As,  whan  a  thing  is  schapen,  it  schal  be,) 

That  soone  aftur  the  mydnyght,  Palamon 

By  helpyng  of  a  freend  brak  his  prisouu,  14TO 

And  fleeth  the  cite  fast  as  he  may  goo, 

For  he  had  give  drinke  his  gayler  soo 

Of  a  clarre,  maad  of  a  certayn  wyn, 

With  nercotykes  and  opye  of  Thebes  fyn, 

That  al  that  ni-ght  though  that  men  wolde  him  schake, 

The  gayler  sleep,  he  mighte  nought  awake. 

And  thus  he  fleeth  as  fast  as  ever  he  may. 

The  night  was  schort,  and  faste  by  the  day, 

That  needes  cost  he  moste  himselven  hyde. 

Ar.d  til  a  grove  ther  faste  besyde  .,480 

With  dredful  foot  than  stalketh  Palamon. 

For  s^hortly  this  was  his  opynyoun, 

That  in  that  grove  he  wolde  him  hyde  al  day, 

And  in  the  night  then  wolde  he  take  his  way 

To  Thebes-ward,  his  frendes  for  to  preye 

On  Theseus  to  helpe  him  to  werreye. 

And  schortelich,  or  he  wolde  lese  his  lyf 

Or  wynrien  Emelye  unto  his  wyf. 

This  is  theffect  of  his  entente  playn. 

Now  wol  I  torne  unto  Arcite  agayn,  1490 

That  litel  wiste  how  nyh  that  was  his  care, 

Til  that  fortune  hath  brought  him  in  the  snare, 

The  busy  larke,  messager  of  daye, 
Salueth  in  hire  song  the  morwe  gray  ; 
And  fyry  Phebus  ryseth  up  so  bright, 
That  al  the  orient  laugheth  of  the  light, 
And  with  his  stremes  dryeth  in  the  greves 
The  silver  dropes,  hongyng  on  the  leeves. 
And  Arcite,  that  is  in  the  court  ryal 
"Vjnth  Theseus,  his  squyer  principal,  1590 

Is  risen,  and  loketh  on  the  mery  day. 

1493.  messayer  of  day.    The  llarl.  Ms.  reads  of  May.    Three  >ine»  below, 
Tyrwhitt  reads  sly  lit  for  liyht,  very  uiivoetically. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  67 


And  for  to  doon  his  observance  to  May, 

Reinembryng  of  the  poynt  of  his  desire, 

He  on  his  courser,  stertyng  as  the  fire, 

IB  riden  into  feeldes  him  to  pleye, 

Out  of  the  court,  were  it  a  myle  or  tweye. 

And  to  the  grove,  of  which  that  I  yow  tolde, 

By  a  venture  his  wey  he  gan  to  holcle, 

To  make  him  a  garland  of  the  greves, 

Were  it  of  woodewynde  or  hawthorn  leves,  1510 

And  lowde  he  song  agens  the  sonne  scheene  : 

*'  May,  with  all  thyn  floures  and  thy  greene, 

Welcome  be  thou,  wel  faire  freissche  May, 

I  hope  that  I  som  grene  gete  may." 

And  fro  his  courser,  with  a  lusty  herte, 

Into  the  grove  ful  lustily  he  sterte, 

And  in  a  pathe  he  romed  up  and  doun, 

Ther  by  a  venture  thisPalamoun 

Was  in  a  busche,  that  no  man  might  him  see, 

Ful  sore  afered  of  his  deth  was  he.  1520 

Nothing  ne  knew  he  that  it  was  Arcite. 

God  wot  he  wolde  have  trowed  it  ful  lite. 

For  soth  is  seyde,  goon  ful  many  yeres, 

That  feld  hath  oyen,  and  the  woode  hath  eeree. 

It  is  ful  fair  a  man  to  bere  him  evene, 

For  al  day  nietuth  men  atte  unset  stevene. 

Ful  litel  woot  Arcite  of  his  felawe, 

That  was  so  neih  to  herkeri  of  his  sawe, 

For  in  the  busclie  he  styiiteth  now  ful  stille. 

Whan  that  Arcite  had  romed  al  his  fille,  1530 

And  songen  al  the  roundel  lustily, 

Into  a  studie  he  fel  sodeynly, 

As  doth  thes  lovers  in  here  queynte  geeres, 

Now  in  the  croppe,  now  doun  in  the  breres, 

Now  up,  now  doun,  as  boket  in  a  welle. 

Right  as  the  Friday,  sothly  for  to  telle, 

Now  it  schyneth,  now  it  reyneth  faste, 

Right  so  gan  gery  Venus  overcaste 

The  hertes  of  hire  folk,  right  as  hir  day 

Is  grisful,  right  so  chaungeth  hire  aray.  1540 

1821.  feld  hath  eyen.  This  was  a  very  popular  old  proverb.  See  my  Essays 
»n  subjects  connected  witL  '.ho  Literature,  &c.  of  the  Middle  Ages.  i.  p.  ]6£. 
4  Latin  rhymer  has  given  the  following  version  of  it,  riot  uncommon  in  MS3. 

Campus  habet  lumen,  et  habet  nemus  amis  acumen. 

1537.  now  it  schyn>:th.  Tyrwhitt  reads,  now  schinrth  i?,  and  proposes  oil 
bad  MS.  authority  -now  lite  xhiitt-ttt ;  but  he  w;ia  wrong  in  supposing  that"  itie 
may  have  betMi  a  dissyllable  formerly,  as  well  as  <ittc." 

1640.  yrisftU.  The  two  Cambridge  M.sf-  "~-  «*-»vi  -«id  gertiful,  which  '. * 
IP^bajJS  right. 


68  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Selde  is  the  Fryday  al  the  vyke  i-like. 

Whan  that  Arcite  hadde  songe,  he  gan  to  sike, 

And  sette  him  doun  withouten  eny  more  : 

"  Alas  !  "  quod  lie,  "  that  day  that  I  was  bore ! 

How  longe,  Juno,  thurgh  thy  cruelte 

Wiltow  werreyeri  Thebes  the  citee  ? 

Alias  !  i-brought  is  to  confusioun 

The  blood  royal  of  Cadme  arid  Amphioun  ; 

Of  Cadyrius,  the  which  was  the  furst  man. 

That  Thebes  bulde.  or  first  the  toun  bygan,  1650 

And  of  that  cite  first  was  crowned  kyng, 

Of  his  lynage  am  I,  and  his  ofspring 

By  verray  lyne,  and  of  his  stole  ryal  : 

Arid  now  I  am  so  caytyf  and  so  thral, 

That  he  that  is  my  mortal  enemy, 

I  serve  him  as  his  squyer  povrely. 

And  yet  doth  Juno  me  wel  more  schame, 

For  I  dar  nought  bykriowe  myn  owne  name, 

But  ther  as  I  was  wont  to  note  Arcite,  1559 

Now  hoote  I  Philostrate,  nought  worth  a  myte. 

Alias  !  thou  felle  Mars,  alias  !  Juno, 

Thus  hath  youre  ire  owre  lynage  fordo, 

Save  oonly  rue,  and  wrecchid  Palamon, 

That  Theseus  martyreth  in  prisoun. 

Arid  over  all  this,  to  slee  me  utterly, 

Love  hath  his  fyry  dart  so  brennyngly 

I-stykid  thorugh  my  trewe  careful  herte, 

That  schapen  was  niy  deth  erst  than  my  scherte. 

Ye  slen  me  with  youre  eyheri,  Einelye; 

Ye  ben  the  cause  wherfore  that  I  dye.  1570 

Of  al  the  remenant  of  al  myn  other  care 

Ne  sette  I  nought  the  mountaunce  of  a  tare, 

So  that  I  couthe  do  ought  to  youre  plesaunce." 

And  with  that  word  he  fel  doun  in  a  traunce 

A  long  tyme  ;  and  af'tirward  upsterte 

This  Palamon,  that  thoughte  thurgh  his  herte 

He  felt  a  cold  swerd  sodeynliche  glyde  ; 

For  ire  he  quook,  he  nolde  no  lenger  abyde. 

And  whan  that  he  hath  herd  Arcites  tale, 

1568.  than  my  icherte.  This  appears  to  have  been  a  proverbial  phrase,  «nd 
w  explained  by  two  passages  from  the  poems  of  Chaucer.  In  the  Legende  oi 
food  women,  1.  2618  :— 

Sens  first  that  day,  that  shapen  was  my  Bherte, 
Or  by  the  fatal  s aster  had  my  domo. 

and  in  the  third  book  of  Troilus  and  Creseide,  1.  734,— 

O  fatal  sustren,  whiclie,  or  any  clothe 
Me  oh.ipeii  was,  my  destinet:  me  si-onne. 


THE  KNIGHTS  TALE.  50 


As  he  were  wood,  with  face  deed  and  pale,  1580 

He  sterte  him  up  out  of  the  bussches  thikke, 

And  seyd  :  "  Arcyte,  false  traitour  wikke, 

Now  art  thou  hent,  that  lovest  my  lady  so, 

For  whom  that  I  have  al  this  peyne  and  wo, 

Arid  art  my  blood,  and  to  my  counseil  sworn, 

As  I  ful  ofte  ha/e  told  the  heere  byforn, 

And  hast  byjaped  here  the  duke  Theseus, 

Andfalsly  chaunged  hast  thy  name  thus; 

I  wol  be  deed,  or  elles  thou  schalt  dye. 

Thou  schalt  not  love  my  lady  Emelye,  1590 

But  I  wil  love  hire  oonly  and  no  mo  j 

For  I  am  Palamon  thy  mortal  fo. 

And  though  that  I  no  wepen-  have  in  this  place, 

But  out  of  prisoun  am  y-stert  by  grace, 

I  drede  not  that  other  thou  schalt  dye, 

Or  thou  ne  schalt  not  love  Emelye. 

Chese  which  thou  wilt,  for  thou  schalt  not  asterte.'' 

This  Arciie,  with  ful  despitous  herte, 

Whan  he  him  knew,  and  had  his  tale  herde, 

As  fers  as  a  lyoun  pulleth  out  a  swerde,  1600 

Arid  seide  thus  :  "  By  God  that  sitteth  above, 

Nere  it  that  thou  art  sike  and  wood  for  love, 

Arid  eek  that  thou  no  wepne  hast  in  this  place, 

Thou  schuldest  never  out  of  this  grove  pace, 

That  thou  ne  schuldest  deyen  of  myn  hond. 

For  I  defye  the  seurte  and  the  bond 

Which  that  thou  seyst  I  have  maad  to  the. 

For,  verray  fool,  theiik  that  love  is  fre  ; 

And  I  wol  love  hire  mawgre  al  thy  might. 

But,  for  thou  art  a  gentil  perfight  knight,  1610 

And  weriest  to  dereyrie  hire  by  b&tayle, 

Have  heere  my  trouthe,  to  morwe  I  nyl  not  fayle, 

Withouten  wityng  of  eny  other  wight, 

That  heer  I  wol  be  fourideii  as  a  knight, 

Arid  bryngen  harneys  right  inough  for  the  ; 

And  ches  the  best,  and  let'  the  worst  for  me 

And  mete  and  dryiike  this  night  wil  I  bryng 

Jnough  for  the,  and  cloth  for  thy  beddyiig. 

And  if  so  be  that  thou  my  lady  wynne, 

And  sle  me  in  this  wood  that  I  am  iiine,  1630 

Thou  maist  wel  have  thy  lady  as  for  me." 

This  Palamon  answereth,  "  I  graunt  it  the." 

And  thus  they  ben  departed  til  a-morwe, 

1604.  The  Ms.  Karl,  reads,  But  out  of  vrisonn  art  y-sttrt  by  grace,  wiiir.D 
probably  arose  from  a  mistake  of  the  scribe,  who  seeing  that  line  1603  w:w>  a 
repetition  of  15'J3,  thought  that  the  next  line  (15S>4)  w-Vs'to  be  repeated  also. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Whan  ech  of  hem  had  leyd  his  feith  to  borwe. 

O  Cupide,  out  of  al  charite ! 
O  regne,  that  wolt  no  felaw  have  with  the  ' 
Ful  soth  is  seyde,  that  love  ne  lordschipe 
Wol  not,  his  thonkes,  have  no  felaschipe. 
Wei  fynden  that  Arcite  and  Palamoun. 
Arcite  is  riden  anon  to  the  toun,  16J»C 

And  on  the  morwe,  or  it  were  day  light, 
Ful  prively  two  harneys  hath  he  dight, 
Bothe  sufficaunt  and  niete  to  darreyne 
The  batayl  in  the  feeld  betwix  hem  tweyne. 
And  on  his  hors,  alone  as  he  was  born, 
He  caryed  al  this  harneys  him  byforn  ; 
And  in  the  grove,  as  tyme  and  place  i-sette. 
This  Arcite  and  this  Palamon  ben  mette. 
Tho  chaungen  gan  here  colour  in  here  face. 
Right  as  the  honter  in  the  regne  of  Trace  1640 

That  stondeth  in  the  gappe  with  a  spere, 
Whan  honted  is  the  Jyoun  or  the  bere, 
And  hereth  him  come  russhyng  in  the  greves, 
And  breketh  bothe  the  bowes  and  the  leves, 
And  thenketh,   "  Here  cometh  my  inortel  enemy, 
Withoute  faile,  he  mot  be  deed  or  1 ; 
For  eyther  I  mot  slen  him  at  the  gappe, 
Or  he  moot  slee  me,  if  it  me  myshappe  :  " 
So  ferden  they,  in  chaungyrig  of  here  hew, 
As  fer  as  eyther  of  hem  other  knewe.  1650 

Ther  nas  no  good  day,  ne  so  saluyng  ; 
But  streyt  withouten  wordes  rehersyrig, 
Every  of  hem  helpeth  to  armen  other, 
As  freridly  as  he  were  his  owen  brother  ; 
Arid  thanne  with  here  scharpe  speres  stronge 
They  foyneden  ech  at  other  wonder  longe. 
Tho  it  semed  that  this  Palamon 
In  his  fightyng  were  as  a  wood  lyoun, 
And  as  a  cruel  tygre  was  Arcite  : 

As  wilde  boores  gonne  they  togeder  smyte,  1660 

That  frothen  white  as  forne  for  ire  wood. 
Up  to  the  ancle  they  faught  in  here  blood. 
And  in  this  wise  I  lete  hem  fightyng  welle  ; 
And  forthere  I  wol  of  Theseus  telle. 

The  destine,  mynistre  general, 
That  executeth  in  the  world  over  al 
The  purvearis,  that  God  hath  seye  byforn  ; 
So  strong  it  is,  that  they  the  world  had  sworn 

1036.  exfcuteth..    The  Ms.  Karl,  reads,  excust.1 


THE  KNIGBTES  TALE.  f>l 

The  contrary  of  a  thing  by  ye  or  nay, 

Yet  soin  tyine  it  schal  falle  upon  a  day  1670 

That  falleth  nought  eft  in  a  thousand  yeere. 

For  certeynly  oure  appetites  heere, 

Be  it  of  werre,  of  pees,  other  hate,  or  love, 

A 1  is  it  reuled  by  the  sight  above. 

This  mene  I  now  by  mighty  Theseus, 

Thai  for  to  honte  is  so  desirous, 

An*4,  namely  the  grete  hert  in  May, 

That  in  his  bed  ther  daweth  him  no  day, 

That  he  nys  clad,  and  redy  for  to  ryde 

With  horit  and  horn,  and  houndos  him  byside.       1880 

For  in  his  hontyng  had  he  such  delyt, 

That  is  his  joye  and  his  appetyt 

To  been  himself  the  grete  herts  bane. 

For  after  Mars  he  serveth  now  Diane. 

Cleer  was  tho  day,  as  I  have  told  or  this, 
And  Theseus,  with  alle  joye  and  blys, 
With  his  Ypolita,  the  fayre  queene, 
And  Emelye,  clothed  al  in  greene, 
On  honting  be  thay  riden  ryall\r. 

And  to  the  grove,  that  stood  ther  faste  by,  1690 

In  which  ther  was  an  hert  as  men  him  tolde, 
Duk  Theseus  the  streyte  wey  hath  holde. 
And  to  the  launde  he  rydeth  him  ful  right, 
There  was  the  hert  y-wont  to  have  his  flight, 
And  over  a  brook,  and  so  forth  in  his  weye. 
This  duk  wol  have  of  him  a  cours  or  tweye 
With  houndes,  which  as  him  lust  to  comaunde. 
And  whan  this  duk  was  come  into  the  launde, 
Under  the  sonne  he  loketh,  right  anon 
He  was  war  of  Arcite  and  Palamon.  1700 

That  foughten  breeme,  as  it  were  boores  tuo  ; 
The  brighte  swerdes  wente  to  and  fro 
So  hidously,  that  with  the  leste  strook 
It  seemeth  as  it  wolde  felle  an  ookj 
But  what  they  were,  nothing  yit  he  woot. 
This  duk  with  spores  his  courser  he  smoot, 
And  at  a  stert  he  was  betwix  hem  tuoo, 
And  pullid  out  a  swerd  and  cride,  "  Hoo  ! 
Nomore,  up  peyne  of  leesyng  of  your  heed. 
By  mighty  Alars,  anon  he  schal  be  deed,  1710 

1070.  The  sentiment  expressed  i£  liiia  audihe  following  line  la  taken  direct 
Irom  the  Toseide, — 

Ma  come  nui  vogian  venir  in  bora 
Cossa  ohe  in  mille  mini  non  aviene. 

1701.  fcoores  tuo.    Tyrwhitt.  with  must  uf  the  MS.S.,  reads  tx>llcs  (bulls). 


82  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  smyteth  eny  strook,  that  I  may  seen  ! 

But  telleth  me  what  mestir  men  ye  been, 

That  ben  so  hardy  for  to  fighten  heere 

Withoute  jugge  or  other  officere, 

As  it  were  in  a  lyste  really." 

This  Palamon  answerde  hastily, 

And  seyde  :  "  Sire,  what  nedeth  wordes  mo  f 

We  han  the  deth  deserved  bothe  tuo. 

Tuo  woful  wrecches  been  we,  and  kaytyves. 

That  ben  encombred  of  oure  owne  lyves  ;  1780 

And  as  thou  art  a  rightful  lord  and  juge, 

Ne  geve  us  neyther  mercy  no  refuge. 

And  sle  me  first,  for  seynte  charite  ; 

But  sle  my  felaw  eek  as  wel  as  me. 

Or  sle  him  first ;  for,  though  thou  knowe  him  lyte, 

This  is  thy  mortal  fo,  this  is  Arcite, 

That  fro  thy  lond  is  banyscht  on  his  heed, 

For  which  he  hath  i-served  to  be  deed. 

For  this  is  he  that  come  to  thi  gate 

And  seyde,  that  he  highte  Philostrate.  1730 

Thus  hath  he  japed  the  many  a  yer, 

And  thou  hast  maad  of  him  thy  cheef  squyer. 

And  this  is  he  that  loveth  Emelye. 

For  sith  the  day  is  come  that  I  schal  dye, 

I  make  pleynly  niy  confessioun, 

That  I  am  the  woful  Palamoun, 

That  hath  thy  prisoun  broke  wikkedly. 

I  am  thy  mortal  foo,  and  it  am  I 

That  loveth  so  hoote  Emely  the  bright, 

That  I  wol  dye  present  in  hire  sight.  1740 

Therfore  I  aske  deeth  and  my  juwyse  ; 

But  slee  my  felaw  in  the  same  wyse, 

For  bothe  we  have  served  to  be  slayn." 

This  worthy  duk  answerde  anon  agayn, 
And  seide,  "  This  is  a  schort  conclusioun  : 
Your  owne  mouth,  by  your  owne  confessioun, 
Hath  dampned  you  bothe,  and  I  wil  it  recorde. 
It  nedeth  nought  to  pyne  yow  with  the  corde. 
Ye  schul  be  deed  by  mighty  Mars  the  reede !  " 
The  queen  anon  for  verray  wommanhede  175f 

Gaii  for  to  wepe,  and  so  dede  Emelye, 
And  alle  the  ladies  in  the  companye. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALK. 


Gret  pite  was  it,  as  it  thought  hein  alle, 

That  evere  such  a  chaunce  schulde  falle  ; 

For  gentil  men  thi  were  and  of  gret  estate, 

And  nothing  but  for  love  was  this  debate. 

And  saw  here  bloody  woundes  wyde  and  sore  ; 

And  alle  they  cryde  lesse  and  the  more. 

"  llave  mercy,  Lord,  upon  us  wommen  alle  !  " 

And  on  here  bare  knees  anoon  they  falle,  IMC 

And  wolde  have  kissed  his  feet  right  as  he  stood. 

Til  atte  laste  aslaked  was  his  mood  ; 

For  pite  renneth  sone  in  gentil  herte. 

And  though  he  first  for  ire  quok  and  sterte, 

He  hath  it  al  considered  in  a  clause, 

The  trespas  of  hem  bothe,  and  here  cause  : 

And  although  his  ire  here  gylt  accused, 

•f  et  in  his  resoun  he  hem  bothe  excused  ; 

And  thus  he  thought  that  every  n.aner  man 

Wol  help  himself  in  love  if  that  he  can,  1770 

And  eek  delyver  himself  out  of  prisoun. 

And  eek  in  his  hert  had  compassioun 

Of  wommen,  for  they  wepen  ever  in  oon  ; 

And  in  his  gentil  hert  he  thought  anoon, 

And  sothly  he  to  himself  seyde  :  "  Fy 

Upon  a  lord  that  wol  have  no  mercy, 

But  be  a  lyoun  bothe  in  word  and  dede, 

To  hem  that  ben  in  repentaunce  and  drede, 

As  wel  as  TO  a  proud  dispitious  man, 

That  wol  maynteyne  that  he  first  bigan.  1780 

That  lord  hath  litel  of  discrecioun, 

That  in  such  caas  can  no  divisioun  : 

But  wayeth  pride  and  humblenesse  after  oon. 

And  schortly,  whan  his  ire  is  over  gon, 

He  gan  to  loke  on  hem  with  eyen  light, 

And  spak  these  same  wordes  al  in  hight. 

"The  god  of  love,  a  !  benedictte, 

How  mighty  and  how  gret  a  lord  is  he  ! 

Agayne  his  might  ther  gayneth  non  obstacle, 

He  may  be  cleped  a  god  of  his  miracle  ;  1799 

For  he  can  maken  at  his  owen  gyse 

Of  ever  herte,  as  him  lust  devyse. 

Lo  her  is  Arcite  and  Palamon, 

That  quytely  were  out  of  my  prisoun, 

And  might  have  lyved  in  Thebes  ryally, 

And  witen  I  am  here  mortal  enemy, 

1761.  The  Ms.  Ilarl.  reads  bare  feet,  which  makes  the  line  too  long. 
1785.  ei/en  light.    The  Ilarl.  Ms.  lias  black  and  light,  which  makes  the  line 
too  Icmg,  and  the  epithet  lilac  k  is  evidently  redundant. 


64  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  that  here  deth  lith  in  iny  might  also, 
And  yet  hath  love,  niaugre  here  eyghen  tuo, 
I-brought  hem  hider  bothe  for  to  dye. 
Now  loketli,  is  nat  that  an  heih  folye  ?  1300 

Who  may  not  be  a  fole,  if  that  he  love  ? 
Byholde  for  Goddes  sake  that  sitteth  above, 
Se  how  they  blede  !  be  they  nought  wel  arrayed  ? 
Thus  hath  here  lord,  the  god  of  love,  hem  payed 
liere  wages  and  here  fees  for  here  servise,. 
And  yet  wenen  they  to  ben  ful  wise, 
That  serven  love,  for  ought  that  may  bifalle. 
But  this  is  yette  the  beste  game  of  alle, 
That  sche,  for  whom  they  have  this  jelousye, 
Can  hem  therfore  as  moche  thank  as  me.  1810 

Scho  woot  no  more  of  al  this  hoote  fare, 
By  God,  than  wot  a  cuckow  or  an  hare. 
But  all  moot  ben  assayed  hoot  or  colde  ; 
A  man  moot  ben  a  fool  other  yong  or  olde ; 
I  woot  it  by  myself  ful  yore  agon  : 
For  in  my  tyme  a  servant  was  I  on. 
And  sythen  that  I  knewe  of  loves  peyne, 
And  wot  how  sore  it  can  a  man  destreyne, 
As  he  that  hath  often  ben  caught  in  his  lace, 
I  you  forgeve  holly  this  trespace,  1820 

At  the  request  of  the  queen  that  kneleth  heere, 
And  eek  of  Emely,  my  suster  deere. 
And  ye  schullen  bothe  anon  unto  me  swere, 
That  never  ye  schullori  my  corowne  dere, 
Ne  make  werre  on  me  night  ne  day, 
But  be  my  freendes  in  alle  that  ye  may. 
1  you  forgeve  this  trespas  every  dele." 
And  they  him  swore  his  axying  fayre  and  wele, 
And  him  of  lordschip  and  of  mercy  prayde, 
And  he  hem  graurited  mercy,  and  thus  he  sayde  : 
"  To  speke  of  real  lyriage  arid  riches,  1881 

Though  that  sche  were  a  queen  or  a  prynces, 
Ilk  of  vow  bothe  is  worthy  douteles 
To  wedde  when  tyme  is,  but  natheles 
I  speke  as  for  my  suster  Emelye, 
For  whom  ye  have  this  stryf  and  jelousye, 
Ye  woot  youreself  sche  may  not  wedde  two 
1817.  And  sythen  that.    Taken  litf>r:illy  from  the  Teseido,— 

Ma  pero  die  gia  inamorato  fui, 

K  per  amor  sovente  folegiai, 

M'e  caro  multo  il  perdonare  altrui. 

182*.  fa/iirt  and  wele.    The  Ms.  IT :ni.  reads  every  dele,  evidently  a  more 
!>luiuleruig  repoliUon  by  l.he  scril'o  uf  the  conclusion  of  the  jin-roding  line. 


THE  KNIGUTES  TALE.  6f> 


At  oones,  though  ye  faugh  ten  ever  mo  : 

That  oon  of  yow,  or  be  him  loth  or  leef, 

He  may  go  pypen  in  an  ivy  leef  ;  1840 

This  is  to  say,  sche  may  nought  have  bothe, 

Al  be  ye  never  so  jelous,  ne  so  lothe. 

For-thy  I  put  you  bothe  in  this  degre, 

That  ilk  of  you  schal  have  his  destyne, 

As  him  is  schape,  and  herken  in  what  wyse  ; 

Lo  here  your  eiule  of  that  I  schal  devyse. 

My  wil  is  this,  for  playn  conclusioun, 

Withouteu  eny  repplicacioun, 

If  that  you  liketh,  tak  it  for  the  best, 

That  every  of  you  schal  go  vvher  him  lest  1850 

Frely  withouten  raunsonn  or  daungeer  ; 

And  this  day  fyfty  wykes,  fer  ne  neer, 

Everich  of  you  schal  bryng  an  hundred  kriightes, 

Armed  for  lystes  up  at  alle  lighten 

Al  redy  to  dirayne  hir  by  batayle. 

And  thus  byhote  I  yon  withouten  fayle 

Upon  my  trouthe,  and  as  I  am  a  knight, 

That  whethir  of  yow  bothe  that  hath  might, 

This  is  to  seyri,  that  whethir  he  or  thou 

May  with  his  hundred,  as  I  spak  of  now,  1860 

Sle  his  contrary,  or  out  of  lystes  dryve, 

Him  schal  I  geve  Emelye  to  wyve, 

To  whom  that  fortune  geveth  so  fair  a  grace. 

The  lyste  schal  I  make  in  this  place, 

And  God  so  wisly  on  my  sowle  rewe, 

As  I  schal  even  juge  ben  and  trewe. 

Ye  schul  non  othir  ende  with  me  make, 

That  oon  of  yow  schal  be  deed  or  take. 

And  if  you  thinketh  this  is  wel  i-sayde, 

Say  youre  avys,  and  holdeth  yow  apayde.  187C 

This  is  youre  ende  and  youre  conclusioun," 

"Who  loketh  lightly  now  but  Palamoun  ? 

Who  spryngeth  up  for  joye  but  Arcite  ? 

Who  couthe  telle,  or  who  couthe  endite, 

The  jo}"e  that  is  made  in  this  place 

Whan  Theseus  hath  don  so  fair  a  grace  ? 

But  down  on  knees  wente  every  wight, 

And  thanked  him  with  al  here  hertes  might, 

And  namely  the  Thebanes  ofte  sithe. 

And  thus  with  good  hope  and  herte  blithe  188'. 

They  taken  here  leve,  and  hom-wanl  they  ryde 

To  Thebes-ward,  with  olde  walles  wyde. 

1882.  1  have  added  wanl  (which  has  evidently  been  omitted  hy  the  acrlb> 
jf  the  Ms.  Harl.)  from  one  oi  tho  Cambridge  USB. 


66  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  trow  men  wolde  it  deme  necligence, 
If  I  forgete  to  telle  the  dispence 
Of  Theseus,  that  goth  so  busily 
To  maken  up  the  lystes  rially. 
And  such  a  noble  theatre  as  it  was, 
I  dar  wel  say  that  in  this  world  ther  nas. 
The  cireuite  ther  was  a  myle  aboute, 
Walled  of  stoon,  and  dyched  al  withoute.  1890 

Round  was  the  schap,  in  nianer  of  compaas, 
Ful  of  df  gro,  the  height  of  sixty  paas, 
That  whan  a  man  was  set  in  o  degre 
He  letted  nought  his  felaw  for  to  se. 

Est-ward  ther  stood  a  gate  of  marbul  whit, 
West- ward  such  another  in  opposit. 
And  schortly  to  conclude,  such  a  place 
Was  non  in  erthe  in  so  litel  space. 
In  al  the  lond  ther  nas  no  craftys  man, 
That  geometry  or  arsmetrike  can,  1900 

Xe  portreyour,  ne  kerver  of  y mages, 
That  Theseus  ne  gaf  hem  mete  and  wages 
The  theatre  for  to  maken  and  devyse. 
And  for  to  don  his  right  and  sacrifise, 
He  est-ward  hath  upon  the  gate  above, 
In  worpchip  of  Venus,  goddes  of  love, 
Don  make  an  auter  and  an  oratory  ; 
Arid  west-ward  in  the  mynde  and  in  memory 
Of  Mars,  he  hath  i-maked  such  another, 
That  coste  largely  of  gold  a  fother.  1910 

And  north- ward,  in  a  toret  on  the  walle, 
Of  alabaster  whit  and  reed  coralle 
An  oratory  riche  for  to  see, 
In  worschip  of  Dyane,  goddes  of  chastite, 
Hath  Thefeus  i- wrought  in  noble  wise. 
But  yit  had  I  forgeten  to  devyse 
The  nobil  kervyrig,  and  the  purtretures, 
The  schap,  the  contynaunce  of  the  figures, 
That  wereri  in  these  oratorios  thre.  1919 

Furst  in  the  temple  of  Venus  thou  may  se 
Wrought  in  the  wal,  ful  pitous  to  byholde, 
The  broken  slepes,  and  the  sykes  colde  ; 
The  sacred  teeres,  arid  the  waymentyng  ; 
The  fuyry  strokes  of  the  desiryng, 
Thttt  loves  servauntz  in  thy  lyf  endaren  ; 
The  othes,  that  by  her  covenantz  assuren. 

1903.  In  all  this  description  of  the  arena,  there  is  a  singular  in<vlifleaU«>» 
<*{  the  idea  of  an  ancient  amphitheatre,  by  clothing  it  in  the  description  of  a 
medieval  tournament  eceue. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  67 


Plesance  and  hope,  desyr,  fool-hardynesse, 

Beaute  and  youthe,  baudery  and  richesse, 

Charmesand  sorcery,  lesynges  and  flatery, 

Dispense,  busynes,  and  jelousy,  1980 

That  werud  of  yolo  guides  a  gerland, 

And  a  cukkow  sittyng  on  hire  hand  ; 

Festes,  instrumentz,  carols,  and  daunces, 

Lust  and  array,  and  al  the  circumstaunces 

Of  love,  which  I  rekned  and  reken  schal, 

Ech  by  other  were  peynted  on  the  wal, 

And  mo  than  I  can  make  of  mencioun. 

For  sothly  al  the  mount  of  Setheroun, 

Ther  Venus  hath  hir  principal  dwellyng, 

Was  schewed  on  the  wal  here  portrayng,  1940 

With  alle  the  gardyn,  and  al  the  lustyries. 

Nought  was  forgete  ;  the  porter  Ydelnes, 

Ne  Narcisus  the  fayr  of  yore  agon, 

Ne  yet  the  foly  of  kyng  Salamon, 

Ne  eek  the  grete  strengthe  of  Hercules, 

Thenchauntementz  of  Medea  and  Cerces, 

Ne  of  Turn  us  the  hard  fnyry  corage, 

The  riche  Cresus  caytif  in  servage. 

Thus  may  we  see,  that  wisdom  arid  riches, 

Beaute  ne  sleight,  strengthe  ne  hardynes,  1950 

Ne  may  with  Venus  holde  champartye, 

For  assche  luste  the  world  than  may  sche  gye. 

Lo,  all  this  folk  i-caught  were  in  hire  trace, 

Til  thay  for  wo  ful  often  sayde  alias. 

Sufficeth  this  ensaraple  oon  or  tuo, 

And  though  I  couthe  reken  a  thousend  mo. 

The  statu  of  Venus,  glorious  for  to  see, 

Was  naked  fletyng  in  the  large  see, 

And  fro  the  navel  doun  all  covered  was 

With  wawes  grene,  and  bright  as  eny  glas.  1960 

A  citole  in  hire  right  hond  hadde  sche, 

And   m  hir  heed,  ful  seinely  on  to  see, 

A  rose  garland  ful  swete  and  wel  smellyng, 

And  aboven  hire  heed  dowves  fleyng. 

Biforu  hir  stood  hir  sone  Ctipido, 

Upon  his  schuldres  were  wynges  two  ; 

And  blynd  he  was,  as  it  is  often  seene ; 

A  bowe  he  bar  and  arwes  fair  and  greene. 
j9'29.  sorcery.    This  reading,  supported  by  several  srss.,  is  certainly  »up»» 
rtor  to  Tyrwhitt's/orce,  which  perhaps  oulyarose  from  misreading  the  abl>rx 
riut'.on,  forc'e.    Sorcery  was  considered  one  ol  the  most  effective  tnoUss  ol 
procuring  love. 

1038.  Setheroun.    Citheron. 

liiiiS.  greene.    So  the  Harl.  Ms.    Others  read  scLene  and  kene.  the  latter  o< 
vhich  is  perhaps  the  beet. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES 


Why  schuld  I  nought  as  wel  telle  you  alle 
The  portraiture,  that  was  upon  the  walle  1970 

Within  the  temple  of  mighty  Mars  the  reode? 
Al  peynted  was  the  wal  in  length  and  breede 
Like  to  the  estres  of  the  grisly  place, 
That  hight  the  gret  teinpul  of  Mars  in  Trace, 
In  that  colde  and  frosty  regioun, 
Ther  as  Mars  hath  his  sovereyn  mancioun. 
First  on  the  wal  was  peynted  a  foreste, 
In  which  ther  dwelled  neyther  man  ne  beste, 
With  knotty  knarry  bareyn  trees  olde 
Of  stubbes  scharpe  and  hidous  to  byholde  ;  1980 

In  which  ther  ran  a  swymbul  in  a  swough, 
As  it  were  a  storrne  schuld  berst  every  bough  : 
And  downward  on  an  hil  under  a  bent, 
Ther  stood  the  tempul  of  Marz  armypotent, 
Wrought  al  of  burned  steel,  of  which  thentre 
Was  long  and  streyt,  and  gastly  for  to  see. 
And  therout  cam  a  rage  and  suche  a  prise, 
That  it  maad  al  the  gates  for  to  rise. 
The  northen  light  in  at  the  dore  schon, 
For  wyridow  on  the  walle  ne  was  ther  noon,  1990 

Thorugh  the  which  men  might  no  light  discerne. 
The  dores  wer  alle  ademauntz  eterne, 
I-clenched  overthward  and  endelong 
With  iren  tough  ;  and,  for  to  make  it  strong, 
Every  piler  the  tempul  to  susteene 
Was  tonne  greet,  of  iren  bright  and  schene. 
Ther  saugh  I  furst  the  derk  ymaginyng 
Of  felony,  and  al  the  compassyng  ; 
The  cruel  ire,  and  reed  as  eny  gleede  ; 
The  pikepurs,  and  eek  the  pale  drede  ;  2000 

The  smyler  with  the  knyf  under  his  cloke  ; 
The  schipne  brennyrig  with  the  blake  smoke  ; 
The  tresoun  of  the  murtheryng  in  the  bed  ; 
The  open  werres,  with  woundes  al  bi-bled  ; 

I9TT.  v<  I  Bhall  throw  together  a  few  lines  of  the  Teselde,  which  Cha9O«t 
M*  plain  y  copied  in  this  description  "  (Tyrwhitt)— 

Ne  v'era  bestia  ancora  ne  pastore  .  •  . 
Cerri  .  .  .  nodosi,  aspri,  rigidi,  e  vetustl  . 
E  le  porte  eran  de  eterno  adamante 
Ferrato  d'ogni  pane  tutte  quaiite. 

1981.  a  swymbul.  This  reading  of  Ms.  Harl.  is  supported  by  otter  us« 
Tvrwhitt,  with  some  MSS.,  has  a  rumble  and  a  twough. 

2000.  pikepurs.  The  pikepurses  were,  I  believe,  the  plunderers  who  fo! 
lowed  the  army,  and  their  introduction  here  is  not  so  inappropriate  as  Tyi 
whitt  seemed  to  think. 


THE  KNIGHT ES  TALE.  69 


Contek  with  bloody  kriyf,  and  scharp  inanace. 

Al  ful  of  chirkyng  was  that  sory  place. 

The  sleer  of  himself  yet  saugh  I  there, 

His  herte-blood  hath  bathed  al  his  here  ; 

The  nayl  y-dryve  in  the  schode  a-nyght ; 

Tlie  colde  deth,  with  mouth  gapyrig  upright.          201  (' 

Amyddes  of  the  ternpul  set  mischaunce, 

With  sory  comfort  and  evel  contynaunce. 

I  saugh  woodnes  laughyng  in  his  rage  ; 

The  hunt  strangled  with  wilde  bores  corage  ; 

[The  caroigne  in  the  busshe,  with  throte  y-corve  ; 

A  thousand  slaine,  and  not  of  qualnie  y-storve' ; 

The  tiraurite,  with  the  preye  by  force  y-raft ; 

The  toun  destroied,  ther  was  no  thynge  laft. 

Yet  sawgh  I  brerite  the  schippes  hoppesteres  ; 

The  hunte  strangled  with  the  wilde  beres  :]  2020 

The  sowe  freten  the  child  right  in  the  cradel  ; 

The  cook  i-skalded,  for  al  his  longe  ladel. 

Nought  beth  forgeten  the  inforturie  of  Mart  ; 

The  carter  over-ryden  with  his  cart, 

Under  the  whel  ful  lowe  he  lay  adoun. 

Ther  were  also  of  M&rtz  divisioun, 

The  barbour,  and  the  bowcher,  and  the  smyth, 

That  forgeth  scharpe  swerdes  on  his  stith. 

2005.  confek.  I  have  kept  Tyrwliitt's  reading,  supported  by  most  of  the 
use.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  kuttuil,  evidently  by  error. 

2013.  Tyrwhitt,  with  most  of  the  Jiss.,  has  Yet  saw  I  woodnesse  laughing  in 
ftiit  rage,  whicli  is  perhaps  the  correct  reading.  The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  wouniles 
fur  wodnes,  and  hare  rage. 

2015-2020.  These  lines,  givenhere  from  Tyrwhitt,  are  omitted  in  Ms.  Harl., 
itihl  in  some  of  the  other  MSS.  I  have  corrected  Tyrwhitt's  orthography  l>y 
the  best  of  the  two  Cambridge  MSR. 

2023.  infortune  of  Mart.  Tyrwhitt  thinks  that  Chaucer  might  intend  to  be 
satirical  in  these  lines  ;  but  tlie  introduction  of  such  apparently  undignified 
incidents  arose  from  the  confusion  already  mentioned  of  the  god  of  war  with 
the  planet  to  which  his  name  was  given,  and  the  influence  of  which  was  sup- 
posed to  produce  all  the  disasters  here  mentioned.  The  following  extract 
from  the  "Compost  of  Ptholomeus,"  already  quoted,  gives  some  of  the  sup- 
posed effects  of  Mars  :  "  Under  Mars  is  borne  theves  and  robbers  that  kep«' 
bye  wayes,  and  do  hurte  to  true  men,  and  nyght  walkers,  and  quarell  pykere 
bosters,  mockers,  and  skoffers,  and  these  men  of  Mars  causeth  warre  and 
niurther.  and  batayle,  they  wyll  be  gladly  smytlu-s  or  workers  of  yron,  Ivgiu 
fyngred,  and  lyeTB,  gret  swerers  of  othes  in  vengeable  wyse,and  a  great  sur 
n.yier  and  crafty.  He  is  red  and  angry,  with  blacke  heer,  and  lytell  iyen  ;  h( 
shall  be  a  great  walker,  and  a  maker  of  swordes  and  knyves,  and  a  shcder  o< 
mannes  blode,  and  a  fornycatour,  and  a  speker  of  rybawklry  .  .  .  and  good 
to  be  a  barboure  and  a  blode  letter,  and  to  drawe  tethe,  and  ie  peryllous  of 
hie  handcs."  The  following  extract  is  from  an  old  astrological  book  of  the 
sixteenth  century  :—"  Mars  denoteth  men  with  red  faces  and  the  skiniie 
r  Jdde,  the  face  round,  the  eyes  yellow,  horrible  to  behold,  furious  men,  crtu-1! 
desperate,  proude,  sedicious,  souldiers,  captaines.  smythes,  colliers,  bakers, 
aleumistes,  armourers,  furnisliers.  butchers,  chirurgions,  barbers,  Bargiunia, 
and  hangmen,  according  as  they  shal  be  well  or  evill  disposed." 

2027.  Tyrwhitt  has  altered  this  line  to  y/jVirmerer,  and  the  boiryer.and  the 
imith.  Tlie  barber  and  butcher,  ns  well  as  the  smith,  were  under  the  influ- 
e  ice  of  Mars.  See  thu  extract*  in  tLn  l;i*i  note 


70  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  al  above  depeynted  in  a  tour 

Saw  I  conquest  sittyiig  in  gret  honour,  3030 

With  the  scharpe  swerd  over  his  heed 

Hangynge  by  a  so  til  twyne  threed. 

Depeynted  was  ther  the  slaught  of  Julius, 

Of  grete  Nero,  and  of  Anthonius  ; 

Al  be  that  ilke  tyme  they  Avere  unborn, 

Yet  was  here  deth  depeynted  ther  byforn, 

By  manasyng  of  Martz,  right  by  figure, 

So  was  it  schewed  right  in  the  purtreture 

As  is  depeynted  in  sterres  above, 

Who  schai  be  slayn  or  elles  leed  for  love.  2040 

Sufficeth  oon  ens-ample  in  stories  olde, 

I  may  riot  reken  hem  alle,  though  I  wolde. 

The  statue  of  Mars  upon  a  carte  stood, 
Armed,  and  loked  grym  as  he  were  wood  ; 
And  over  his  heed  ther  schyneth  two  figures 
Of  sterres,  that  been  cleped  in  scriptures, 
That  oon  Puella,  that  othur  Rubius. 
This  god  of  armes  was  arayed  thus : 
A  wolf  ther  stood  byforn  him  at  his  feet 
With  even  reed,  and  of  a  man  he  eet ;  2050 

With  sotyl  pencel  depeynted  was  this  storie. 
In  redoutyng  of  Mars  and  of  his  glorie. 

Now  to  the  temple  of  Dyane  the  chaste 
As  schortly  as  I  can  I  wol  me  haste, 
To  telle  you  al  the  descripcioun. 
Depeynted  ben  the  walles  up  and  doun, 
Of  hurityng  and  of  schamefast  chastite. 
Ther  saugh  I  how  woful  Calystope, 
Whan  that  Dyane  was  agreved  with  here, 
Was  turned  from  a  worn  man  to  a  bere,  2060 

And  after  was  sche  maad  the  loode-sterre  ; 
Thus  was  it  peynted,  I  can  say  no  ferre  ; 
Hire  son  is  eek  a  sterre,  as  men  may  Pee. 
Ther  sawgh  I  Dyane  turned  intil  a  ti^e, 
I  merie  nought  the  goddes  Dyane, 
But  Peneus  doughter,  the  whiche  hight  Dane. 
Ther  saugh  I  Atheon  an  hert  i-maked, 
For  vengance  that  he  saugh  Dyane  al  naked  ; 
I  saugh  how  that  his  houndes  han  him  caught, 
And  freten  him,  for  that  they  knew  him  naught- 

£039.  in  sterres.  It  was  supposed  by  astrologers  that  every  man's  fortunes 
were  depicted  in  the  stare  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  Other  MSS.,  with 
I'yrwhitt,  read  cercles. 

L'042.  This  line  is  left  blank  in  Ms.  Harl. 

1:063.  a  sierre.  Tlie  Harl.  Ms.  read>>  '.iv  an  evident  mistake,  is  eek  <i/tir  tit 
lit  II  may  sr.C. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  71 


Tit  i-peynted  was  a  litel  forthermore,  207 1 

How  Atthalaunce  huntyd  the  wilde  bore, 

And  Melyagre,  and  many  another  mo, 

For  which  Dyarie  wrought  hem  care  and  woo. 

Ther  saugh  I  eek  many  another  story.. 

The  which  me  list  not  drawe  to  memory. 

This  goddes  on  an  hert  ful  hye  seet, 

With  smale  houndes  al  aboute  hire  feet, 

And  undernethe  hir  feet  sche  had  the  moone, 

Wexyng  it  was,  and  schulde  wane  soono.  2060 

In  gaude  greeue  hire  statue  clothed  was, 

With  bowe  u.  hande,  and  arwes  in  a  cas. 

Hir  eyghen  caste  sche  ful  lowe  adoun, 

Ther  Pluto  hath  his  derke  regioun. 

A  wonnnan  travailyng  was  hire  biforn. 

But  for  hire  child  so  longe  was  unborn 

Ful  pitously  Lucyna  gan  sche  calle. 

And  seyde,  '  Help,  for  thou  mayst  best  of  alle." 

Wei  couthe  he  peynte  lyfly  that  it  wrought, 

With  many  a  floren  he  the  hewes  bought.  2090 

Now  been  thise  listes  maad,  and  Theseus 
That  at  his  grete  cost  arayed  thus 
The  temples  and  the  theatres  every  del. 
Whan  it  was  don,  it  liked  him  right  wel. 
But  stynt  I  wil  of  Theseus  a  lite, 
And  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcite. 

The  day  approcheth  of  her  attournyng, 
That  every  scliuld  an  hundred  knightes  bryng, 
The  batail  to  derreyne,  as  I  you  tolde  ; 
And  til  Athenes,  her  covenant  to  holde,  2100 

Hath  every  of  hem  brought  an  hundred  knightes, 
Wel  armed  for  the  werre  at  alle  rightes. 
And  sikcrly  ther  trowed  many  a  man 
That  never,  sitlithen  that  this  world  bigan 
For  to  speke  of  knighthod  of  her  hond, 
As  fer  as  God  has  maked  see  or  lond, 
Nas,  of  so  fewe,  so  good  a  company. 
For  every  wight  that  loveth  chyvalry, 
And  wold,  his  thankes,  have  a  passant  name, 
Hath  preyed  that  he  might  be  of  that  game  ; 
And  wel  wa»  him,  that  therto  chosen  was. 
For  if  ther  feile  to  morwe  such  a  caas, 
I  knowe  wel,  that  every  lusty  knight, 
That  loveth  paramours,  and  hath  his  might, 
Were  it  in  Engelond,  or  elleswhere. 
They  wold,  here  thankes,  wilne  to  be  there. 
To  tiijhte  for  a  lady  ;  benedicitet 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


It  were  a  lusty  sighte  for  to  see. 

And  right  so  ferden  they  with  Palamon. 

With  him  ther  wente  knyghtes  many  oon  ;  2120 

Some  wol  ben  armed  in  an  haburgoun, 

In  a  bright  brest  plat  and  a  gypoun  ; 

And  som  wold  have  a  peyre  plates  large, 

And  som  wold  have  a  Pruce  scheld,  or  a  targe  ; 

Som  wol  been  armed  on  here  legges  weel, 

And  have  an  ax,  and  eek  a  mace  of  steel. 

Ther  nys  no  newe  gyse,  that  it  nas  old. 

Armed  were  they,  as  I  have  you  told, 

Everich  after  his  owen  opinioun. 

Ther  maistow  se  comyng  with  Palamoun  2130 

Ligurge  himself,  the  grete  kyng  of  Trace  ; 
Blak  was  his  berd,  and  manly  was  his  face. 
The  cercles  of  his  eyen  in  his  heed 
They  gloweden  bytwixe  yolw  and  reed, 
And  lik  a  griff oun  loked  he  aboute, 
With  keinpe  heres  on  his  browes  stowte  ; 
His  limes  greet,  his  brawnes  hard  arid  stronge, 
His  schuldres  brood,  his  armes  rounde  and  longe. 
And  as  the  gyse  was  in  his  contre, 

Ful  heye  upon  a  chare  of  gold  stood  he,  2140 

With  foure  white  boles  in  a  trays. 
In  stede  of  cote  armour  in  his  harnays, 
With  nayles  yolwe,  and  bright  as  eny  gold, 
He  had  a  bere  skyn,  cole-blak  for  old. 
His  lange  heer  y-kempt  byhynd  his  bak, 
As  eny  raven  fether  it  schon  for  blak. 
A  wrethe  of  gold  arm-gret,  and  huge  of  wight, 
Upon  his  heed,  set  ful  of  stoones  bright, 
Of  fyne  rubeus  and  of  fyn  dyamauntz. 
Aboute  his  chare  wente  white  alaunz,  2150 

Twenty  and  mo,  as  grete  as  eny  stere, 
To  hunte  at  the  lyouii  or  at  the  bere, 
And  folwed  him,  with  mosel  fast  i-bounde, 
Colerd  with  golde,  arid  torettes  fyled  rounde. 
An  hundred  lordes  had  he  in  his  route 
Armed  ful  wel,  with  hertes  stern  and  stoute. 

With  Arcita,  in  stories  as  men  fyncle, 
The  gret  Emetreus,  the  kyng  of  Ynde, 
Uppon  a  steede  bay,  trapped  in  steel, 
Covered  with  cloth  and  of  gold  dyapred  wel,  2160 

Cam  rydyng  lyk  the  god  of  armes  Mars. 

2124.  Pntce.    This  ia  the  reading  of  mos^  of  the  MBS.    The  Ms   Hwl   hM 


THE  KNfGHTES  TALE.  7s 


HJs  coote  armour  was  of  a  cloth  of  Tars, 

Cowched  of  perlys  whyte,  round  and  grete. 

His  sadil  was  of  brend  gold  newe  bete; 

A  mantelet  upon  his  schuldre  hangyng 

Bret-ful  of  rubies  reed,  as  fir  sparclyng. 

His  crispe  her  lik  rynges  was  i-ronrie, 

And  that  was  yalwe,  and  gliteryng  as  the  soi.tie. 

Jlis  nose  was  heigh,  his  eyen  were  cytryrie, 

His  lippes  rounde,  his  colour  was  sangwyn,  2170 

A  fewo  frekries  in  his  face  y-spreynd, 

Betwixe  yolwe  and  somdel  blak  y-meynd, 

And  as  a  lyouii  he  his  lokyng  caste. 

Of  fyve  and  twenty  yeer  his  age  I  caste. 

H.s  berd  was  wel  bygonne  for  to  sprynge  j 

Hi>  voys  was  as  a  trumpe  thunderynge. 

Upon  iiis  heed  he  wered  of  laurer  grene 

A  garlond  freisch  and  lusty  for  to  sene. 

Upon  his  hond  he  bar  for  his  delyt 

An  egle  tame,  as  eny  lylie  whyt.  2190 

An  hundred  lordes  had  he  with  him  ther, 

Al  armed  sauf  here  hedes  in  here  ger, 

Ful  richely  in  alle  maner  thinges. 

For  trusteth  wel,  that  dukes,  erles,  kynges 

Were  gadred  in  this  noble  companye, 

For  love,  and  for  eneres  of  chivalrye. 

Aboute  the  kynge  ther  ran  on  every  part 

Ful  many  a  tame  lyoun  and  lepart. 

And  in  this  wise  thes  lordes  alle  and  some 

Been  on  the  Sonday  to  the  cite  come  2190 

Aboute  prime,  and  in  the  toun  alight. 

This  Theseus,  this  duk,  this  worthy  knight, 

Whan  he  had  brought  hem  into  his  cite, 

And  ynned  hem,  everich  at  his  degre 

He  festeth  hem,  and  doth  so  gret  labour 

To  esen  hem,  and  do  hem  al  honour, 

That  yit  men  wene  that  no  mannes  wyt 

Of  non  estat  that  cowde  a7nenden  it. 

The  mynstralcye,  the  servyce  at  the  feste, 

The  grete  giftes  to  the  most  and  leste,  2200 

The  riche  aray  of  Theseus  paleys, 

Jse  who  sat  iirst  ne  last  upon  the  deys, 

What  ladies  fayrest  ben  or  best  daunsyng, 

Or  which  of  hem  can  daunce  best  or  sing, 

21>12   cloth  of  Tarn.    A  kind  of  silk,  said  to  be  the  same  as  in  other  place* 
willed  Tar /urine  <ti'rtarinum),but  the  exact  derivation  o£  which  appears  to 
e  HoiiiewUnt  uncertain. 
£il)l.   Tlieaeus  paieys.    The  Ms.  llarl.  reads  uf  Tit,  bcs  his  //al-eys. 


74  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ne  -who  most  felyngly  speketh  of  love  ; 

What  haukes  sitten  on  the  perche  above, 

What  houndes  lyen  in  the  floor  adoun  : 

Of  al  this  make  I  now  no  mencioun  ; 

But  of  theffect ;  that  thinketh  me  the  beste  ;          2209 

Now  comth  the  poynt,  and  herkneth  if  you  lesto. 

The  Sonday  night,  or  day  bigan  to  springe, 
When  Palamon  the  larke  herde  synge, 
Although  it  were  nought  day  by  houres  tuo, 
Yit  sang  the  larke,  and  Palamon  also 
With  h<  IT  herte,  and  with  an  heih  corage 
He  roos.,  t_>  wenden  on  his  pilgrymage 
Unto  the  blisful  Cithera  benigne, 
I  mene  Venus,  honorable  and  digne. 
And  in  hire  hour  he  walketh  forth  a  paas 
Unto  the  lystes,  ther  hir  temple  was,  7220 

And  doun  he  kneleth,  and,  with  humble  cheer 
And  herte  sore,  he  seide  as  ye  schal  heer. 

"  Fairest  of  faire,  o  lady  myn  Venus, 
Doughter  of  Jove,  and  spouse  to  Vulcan  us, 
Thou  glader  of  the  mount  of  Citheroun, 
For  thilke  love  thou  haddest  to  Adeoun 
Have  pite  on  rny  bitter  terres  smerte, 
And  tak  myn  humble  prayer  to  thin  herte. 
Alias  i  I  ne  have  no  langage  for  to  telle 
TheiTectss  ne  the  tormeritz  of  myn  helle  ;  2230 

Myn  herre  may  myn  harmes  nat  bewreye  ; 

2219.  And  in  hire  hour.  "  I  cannot  better  illustrate  Chaucer's  astrology 
than  by  a  quotation  from  the  old  Kalendrier  de  Berbers,  edit.  1500,  sign.  K. 
li.  b.  Qui  veult  savoir  comme  bergiors  scevent  quel  planete  re;*ne  chasoune 
heure  du  jour  et  de  la  nuit,  doit  savoir  la  planete  du  jour  qui  veult  ^'enquer- 
ir  ;  et  la  premiere  heure  temporelle  du  soleil  levant  ce  jour  est  pour  ceiluy 
planete,  la  seccnde  heure  est  pour  la  planete  ensuivant,  et  la  tierce  pour 
I'autre,  &c.,  in  tlie  following  order,  viz.,  Saturn,  Jupiter,  Mars,  Sol,  Venus, 
Mercury,  I. una.  To  apply  this  doctrine  to  the  present  case.  The  first  hour 
of  the  Sunday,  reckoning  from  sun-rise,  belonged  to  the  Sun,  the  planet  of 
the  day  ;  tin-  second  to  Venus,  the  third  to  .Mercury,  &c. ;  arid  continuing  thi* 
method  of  allotment,  we  shall  find  that  the  twenty-second  hour  also  belonged 
to  the  Sun,  and  the  twenty-third  to  Venus  ;  so  that  the  hour  of  Venus  reallr 
was,  as  Chaucer  says,  two  hours  before  sunrise  of  the  following  day.  Acoord"- 
Ingly  we  are  told  in  ver.  2273,  that  the  third  hour  after  Palamon 'set  out  for 
the  temple  of  Venus,  the  Sun  rose,  and  Emelie  began  to  go  to  the  temple  of 
Diane.  It  is  not  said  th-it  this  was  the  hour  of  Diane,  or  the  Moon,  but  it 
really  was:  for.  ae  we  have  just  seen,  the  twenty-third  hour  of  Sunday  be- 
longing to  Venus,  the  twenty-fourth  must  be  given  to  Mercury,  and  the'lirst 
hour  of  Monday  falls  in  course  to  the  Moon,  the  presiding  planet  of  that  dav. 
After  this  An-ite  is  described  as  walking  to  the  temple  of  Mars,  ver.  1>3GO,  in 
the  ncxte  hourt  of  .Mars,  that  is,  ihc  fourth  hour  of  the  day.  It  is  necessary  it, 
Sake  these  words  together,  for  the  nt>xfe  hcnire,  singly,  would  signify  ibu 
second  hour  of  the  day  ;  but  that,  according  to  the  rule  of  ritation'mt-n- 
tioned  above,  belonged"  to  Saturn,  as  the  third  did  to  Ju|>itor  I'lie  fnurt\ 
was  the  ims.te  houre  nf  Ufara  that  ni-ourrod  after  the  hour  l;is;  named."— 
Ti/nchitt. 
'  222a  I'airett  o/y<un  The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  fairest,  Ofairett. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  75 


I  am  so  corifus.  that  I  may  not  seye. 
But  mercy,  lady  bright,  that  knowest  wel 
My  thought,  and  felest  what  harm  that  I  fel, 
Consider  al  this,  and  re\v  upon  my  sore, 
As  wisly  as  I  sehal  for  evermore 
Enforce  my  might  thi  trewe  servant  to  be, 
And  holde  werre  alday  with  chastite  ; 
That  make  I  myn  avow,  so  ye  me  helpe. 
I  kepe  nat  of  armes  for  to  yelpe,  224C 

Ne  nat  1  aske  to  morn  to  have  victorie, 
Ne  renoun  in  this  caas,  ne  veyne  glorie 
Of  pris  of  armes,  blowyng  up  and  doun, 
But  I  wolde  have  ful  possessioun. 
Of  Emelye,  and  dye  in  thi  servise  ; 
Fynd  thou  the  maner  how,  and  in  what  wyse. 
I  recche  nat,  but  it  may  better  be, 
To  have  victorie  of  him,  or  he  of  me, 
So  that  1  have  my  lady  in  myn  armes. 
For  though  so  be  that  Mars  be  god  of  armes, 
And  ye  be  Venus,  the  goddes  of  love,  2251 

Youre  vertu  is  so  gret  in  heven  above, 
Thy  temple  wol  I  worschipe  evermo, 
And  on  thin  tauter,  wher  I  ryde  or  go, 
I  wol  do  sacrifice,  and  fyres  beete. 
And  if  ye  wol  nat  so,  my  lady  sweete, 
Than  pray  I  the,  to  morwe  with  a  spere 
That  Arcita  me  thurgh  the  herte  bere. 
Thanne  rekke  I  nat,  whan  I  have  lost  my  lyf, 
Though  that  Arcite  have  hir  to  his  wyf.  22fl0 

This  is  thell'ect  and  ende  of  my  prayere  ; 
Gif  me  my  love,  thou  blisful  lady  deere." 
Whan  thorisoun  was  doon  of  Palainon, 
His  sacrifice  he  dede,  and  that  anoori 
Ful  pitously,  with  alle  circumstances, 
Al  telle  1  nat  as  now  his  observances. 
But  at  the  last  the  statu  of  Venus  schook, 
And  made  a  sigiie,  wherby  that  he  took 
That  his  prayer  accepted  was  that  day. 
For  though  the  signe  schewed  a  delay.  »216 

Yet  wist  he  wel  that  graunted  was  his  boone  ; 
And  with  glad  herte  he  went  him  horn  ful  soone. 
The  thrid  hour  inequal  that  Palamon 

;  In  the  astrological  system,  tin*  <lay,  from 


!• 
eqi 


WCIC    (Jl     LIllr«    lU^t-'fll'K    C"     1  L.         OCC   IY<lldlt« 

trealige  on  the  Astrolabe."—  Tyrwhitt. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Bigan  to  Venus  temple  for  to  goon, 

Up  roos  the  sonne,  and  up  roos  Emelye. 

And  to  the  temple  of  Diari  gan  sche  hye. 

Hir  maydens,  that  sche  with  hir  thider  ladde, 

Ful  redily  with  hem  the  fyr  they  hadde, 

Thencens,  the  clothes,  and  the  remenant  al 

That  to  the  sacrifice  longen  schal  ;  2280 

The  homes  ful  of  meth,  as  is  the  gyse ; 

Ther  lakketh  nought  to  do  here  sacrifise. 

Smokyng  the  temple,  ful  of  clothes  faire, 

This  Emelye  with  herte  debonaire 

Hir  body  wessch  with  watir  of  a  welle  ; 

But  how  sche  dide  I  ne  dar  nat  telle, 

But  it  be  eny  thing  in  general ; 

And  yet  it  were  a  game  to  here  it  al ; 

To  him  that  meneth  wel  it  were  no  charge  : 

But  it  is  good  a  man  be  at  his  large.  2290 

Hir  brighte  her  was  kempt,  untressed  al ; 

A  corone  of  a  grene  ok  cerial 

Upon  hir  heed  was  set  ful  fair  and  meete. 

Tuo  fyres  on  the  auter  gan  sche  beete, 

And  did  hir  thinges,  as  men  may  biholde 

In  Stace  of  Thebes  and  the  ookes  olde. 

Whan  kynled  was  the  fyre,  with  pitous  cherre 

Unto  Dyan  sche  spak,  as  ye  may  heere. 

"O  chaste  goddes  of  the  woodes  greene, 
To  Avhoui  bothe  heven  and  erthe  and  see  i*  s**ne 
Queen  of  the  regne  of  Pluto  derk  arid  lowe,  3301 

Goddes  of  inaydenes,  that  myn  hert  has  knowe 
Ful  many  a  veer,  ye  wool  what  I  desire, 
As  keep  me  fro  the  vengans  of  thilk  yre, 
That  Atheon  aboughte  trewely  : 
Chaste  goddesse,  wel  wost  thou  that  I 
Desire  to  ben  a  inayden  al  my  lyf, 
Ne  never  wol  I  be  no  love  rie  wyf. 
I  am,  thou  wost.  yit  of  thi  company, 
A  mayden,  and  love  huntyng  and  venery,  2310 

And  for  to  walkeri  in  the  woodes  wylde, 
And  nought  to  ben  a  wyf,  and  be  with  chylde. 
Nought  wol  I  knowe  the  company  of  man. 
Now  helpe  me,  lady,  sythnes  ye  may  and  kan, 

2291.  brighte  her.    So  in  the  Teseide,  Emily  ia  described  a*— 

Dicho  che  i  BUG  crin  parevan  d'oro, 
Non  con  trezza  restretti,  ma  soluti 
E  potiuati. 

2292.  a  corone.    Corona  di  querzia  cerea!e.—7V»«trf«. 

2iS6.   in  Xtace  of  Thebes,     lit  ihe  Thebaid  of  SUtiua. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  77 


For  the  thre  formes  that  them  hast  in  the. 

And  Palainon,  that  hath  such  love  to  me, 

And  eek  Arcite,  that  loveth  me  so  sore, 

This  grace  I  praye  the  withouten  more, 

As  sende  love  and  pees  betwix  hem  two  ; 

And  fro  me  torne  awey  here  hertes  so,  832C 

That  al  here  hoote  love,  arid  here  desire, 

Al  here  besy  torment,  und  al  here  fyre 

Be  queynt,  or  turned  in  another  place. 

A  nd  if  so  be  thou  wol  do  me  no  grace, 

Or  if  my  destyne  be  schapid  so, 

That  I  schal  needes  have  on  of  hem  two, 

So  send  me  him  that  most  desireth  me. 

Biholde,  goddes  of  clene  chastite, 

The  bitter  teeres  that  on  my  cheekes  falle. 

Syn  thou  art  rnayde,  and  keper  of  us  alle,  2330 

My  inaydenhode  thou  kepe  and  wel  conserve, 

And  whil  I  lyve  a  mayde  I  wil  the  serve." 

The  fyres  bren  upon  the  auter  cleer, 
Whil  Emelye  was  in  hire  preyer ; 
But  sodeinly  sche  saugh  a  sighte  queynt, 
For  right  anon  on  of  the  fyres  queynt, 
And  quyked  agayn,  and  after  that  anon 
That  other  fyr  was  queynt,  and  al  agon  ; 
And  as  it  queynt,  it  made  a  whistelyng, 
As  doth  a  wefe  brond  in  his  brennyng.  3340 

And  at  the  brondes  end  out  ran  anoon 
As  it  were  bloody  dropes  many  oon ; 
For  which  so  sore  agast  was  Emelye, 
That  sche  was  wel  neih  mad,  and  gan  to  crie, 
For  sche  ne  wiste  what  it  signifyed  ; 
But  oonely  for  feere  thus  sche  cryed, 
And  wepte,  that  it  was  pite  to  heere. 
And  therwithal  Dyane  gan  appeere, 
With  bow  in  hond,  right  as  a  hunteresse, 
And  seyd  :  "  A  !  doughter,  stynt  thyn  hevynesbe. 
Among  the  goddes  hye  it  is  affermed,  2851 

And  by  eterne  word  write  and  confermed, 
Thou  schalt  be  wedded  unto  oon  of  tho, 
That  have  for  the  so  moche  care  and  wo ; 
But  unto  which  of  hem  may  I  nat  telle. 
Farwel,  for  I  may  her  no  lenger  dwelle. 
The  fyres  which  that  on  myn  auter  bren 
Kchuln  the  declare,  or  that  thou  go  hen, 
Thyn  adventure  of  love,  and  in  this  caas." 

ittC.  thre  formes.    The  Ms.  Harl.,  probably  by  a  mistake  nf  the  »«.Til>e, 
i*  the  word  thre. 


T8  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  with  that  word,  the  arwes  in  the  caas  2360 

Of  the  goddesse  clatren  faste  and  rynge, 
And  forth  sche  went,  and  made  a  vanysschynge, 
For  which  this  Emelye  astoneyd  was, 
And  seide,  "  What  amounteth  this,  alias  I 
I  put  me  under  thy  proteccioun, 
Dyane,  and  in  thi  disposicioun." 
And  hoom  sche  goth  anon  the  nexte  way. 
This  is  theffect,  ther  nys  no  mor  to  say. 
The  nexte  hour  of  Mars  folwynge  this, 
Arcite  to  the  temple  walkyd  is,  8870 

To  fyry  Mars  to  doon  his  sacrifise, 
With  al  the  rightes  of  his  payen  wise. 
With  pitous  herte  and  heih  devocioun, 
Right  thus  to  Mars  he  sayd  his  orisoun  : 
"  O  stronge  god,  that  in  the  reynes  cold 
Of  Trace  honoured  and  lord  art  y-hold, 
And  hast  in  every  regne  and  every  land 
Of  armes  al  the  bridel  in  thy  hand, 
And  hem  fortunest  as  the  lust  devyse, 
Accept  of  me  my  pitous  sacrifise.  2380 

If  so  be  that  my  youthe  may  deserve, 
And  that  my  might  be  worthi  for  to  serve 
Thy  godhed,  that  I  may  ben  on  of  thine, 
Then  pray  I  the  to  rewe  on  my  pyne, 
For  thilke  peyne,  and  that  hoote  fuyre, 
In  which  whilom  thou  brendest  for  desyre, 
Whan  that  thou  usedest  the  gret  bewte  2890 

Of  faire  freissche  Venus,  that  is  so  free, 
And  haddest  hir  in  armes  at  thy  wille  ; 
Arid  though  the  ones  on  a  tynie  mysfille, 
When  Vulcanus  had  caught  the  in  his  laas, 
And  fand  the  liggyng  by  his  wyf,  allaas  ! 
For  thil"ke  sorwe  that  was  in  thin  herte, 
Flave  reuthe  as  wel  upon  my  peynes  smerte. 
I  am  yong  and  unkonnyng,  as  thou  wost, 
And,  as  I  trowe,  with  love  offendid  most, 
That  ever  was  eriy  lyves  creature  ; 
For  sche,  that  doth  me  al  this  wo  endure, 
Ne  lekketh  never  whether  I  synke  or  flete. 
And  wel  I  woot,  or  sche  me  mercy  heete,  2400 

I  moot  with  strengthe  wyn  hir  in  the  place  ; 
And  wel  I  wot,  withouten  help  or  grace 
Of  the,  ne  may  my  strengthe  nought  avayle. 
Then  help  me,  lord,  to  morn  in  my  batayie, 

3375.  The  greater  part  of  *iiis  prayer  is  taken  almost  literally  from  the 
feteUlt. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  79 


For  thilke  fyr  that  whilom  brende  the, 

As  wel  as  this  fire  now  brenneth  me  ; 

And  do  to  morn  that  I  have  the  victorie. 

Myn  be  the  travail,  al  thin  be  the  glorie. 

Thy  soverein  tempul  wol  I  most  honouren 

Of  any  place,  and  alway  most  labouren  24  IP 

In  thy  plesaunce  and  in  thy  craftes  strong. 

A.nd  in  thy  tempul  1  wol  my  baner  hong, 

And  alle  the  armes  of  my  companye, 

And  ever  more,  unto  that  day  I  dye, 

Eterne  fyr  I  wol  bifore  the  fynde. 

And  eek  to  this  avow  I  wol  me  bynde  : 

My  berd,  myn  heer  that  hangeth  longe  adoun, 

That  never  yit  ne  felt  offensioun 

Of  rascfur  ne  of  schere,  I  wol  thee  give, 

And  be  thy  trewe  servaunt  whiles  I  lyve.  2420 

Lord,  have  rowthe  uppon  my  sorwes  sore, 

Gif  me  the  victorie,  I  aske  no  more." 

The  preyer  stynt  of  Arcita  the  strange, 
The  rynges  on  the  tempul  dore  that  hange, 
And  eek  the  dores,  clatereden  ful  fast, 
Of  which  Arcita  somwhat  was  agast. 
The  fyres  brenden  on  the  auter  bright, 
That  it  gan  al  the  tempul  for  to  light ; 
A  swete  smel  anon  the  ground  upgaf, 
And  Arcita  anon  his  hand  up  haf,  2430 

And  more  encens  into  the  fyr  yet  cast, 
With  othir  rightes,  and  than  atte  last 
The  statu  of  Mars  bigari  his  hauberk  ryng. 
And  with  that  soun  he  herd  a  murmuryng 
Ful  lowe  and  dym,  and  sayde  this,   "  Victorie.  ' 
For  which  he  gaf  to  Mars  honour  and  glorie. 
And  thus  with  joye,  and  hope  wel  to  fare, 
Arcite  anoon  unto  his  inne  is  fare, 
As  fayn  as  foul  is  of  the  brighte  sonne. 
And  right  anon  such  stryf  is  bygonne  5440 

For  that  grauntyng,  in  the  heven  above, 
Bitwix  Venus  the  goddes  of  love, 
And  Martz  the  sterne  god  armypotent, 
That  J  upiter  was  busy  it  to  stent ; 
Til  that  the  pale  Saturnes  the  colde, 
That  knew  so  many  of  aveiitures  olde, 
Fond  in  his  olde  experiens  an  art, 
That  he  ful  sone  had  plesyd  every  part. 
As  soth  is  eayd,  eelde  hath  gret  avantage, 
In  eelde  is  bothe  wisdom  and  usage  ;  245" 

Men  may  the  eelde  at-ren,  but  nat  at-rede 


80  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Saturr.e  anon,  to  stynte  stryf  and  drede, 

Al  be  it  that  it  be  agayns  his  kynde, 

Of  al  this  stryf  lie  can  a  remedy  fynde. 

"My  deere  doughter  Venus,"  quod  Satourne, 

"  My  cours,  that  hath  so  wyde  for  to  tourne, 

Hath  more  power  than  woot  eny  man. 

Myn  is  the  drenchyng  in  the  see  so  wan  ; 

Myn  is  the  prisoun  in  the  derke  cote  ; 

Myn  is  the  stranglyrig  and  hangyng  by  the  throte  ; 

The  murmur,  and  the  cherles  rebellyng  ;  2461 

The  groyning,  and  the  pryve  enpoysonyng. 

I  do  vengance  and  i)leyn  correctioun, 

Whiles  I  dwelle  in  the  signe  of  the  lyoun. 

Myn  is  the  rue.u  of  the  hihe  halles, 

The  fallyng  of  the  toures  and  the  walles 

Upon  the  mynour  or  the  carpenter. 

I  slowh  Sampsoun  in  schakyng  the  piler. 

Arid  myne  ben  the  maladies  colde, 

The  derke  tresoun,  and  the  castes  olde  ;  2470 

Myn  lokyng  is  the  fadir  of  pestileus. 

Now  wepe  nomore,  I  schal  do  my  diligence, 

That  Palamon,  that  is  myn  owen  knight, 

Schal  have  his  lady,  as  thou  him  bihight. 

Thow  Martz  schal  kepe  iiis  knight,  yet  nevertheles 

Bitwise  you  ther  moot  som  tyme  be  pees  ; 

Al  be  ye  nought  of  oo  complexioun, 

Tliat  ilke  day  causeth  such  divisioun. 

I  am  thi  ayel,  redy  at  thy  wille ; 

Wepe  thou  nomore,  I  wol  thi  lust  fulfllle."  2480 

Now  wol  I  stynt  of  the  goddes  above, 

Of  Mars,  and  of  Venus  goddes  of  love, 

And  telle  you,  as  pleirily  as  I  can, 

The  grete  efl'ecte  for  that  I  bigan. 

Gret  was  the  fest  in  Athenus  that  day, 
And  eek  that  lusty  sesoun  of  that  May 
Made  evrery  wight  to  ben  in  such  plesaunce, 
That  al  the  Monday  jousten  they  arid  daunce, 
Avi  spende  it  in  Venus  heigh  service. 
B  ..    by  the  cause  that  they  schuln  arise  2490 

Erly  a-morve  for  to  see  that  fight, 
Unto  their  .  dSt  wente  they  at  nyght. 

2463.  ayayns  his  ki/nde.  According  to  the  "  Compost  of  Ptholomeus, 
Siturn  was  influential  in  producing  strife  :  "  And  the  children  of  the  sayd 
S.iturne  shall  be  great  jangeleres  and  ehydera  .  .  .  and  they  will  never  forgyvu 
tyll  they  be  revenged  of  theyr  quarell." 

245(>.  My  cours.     The  course  of  the  planet  Saturi.     See  the  next  note. 

'-'457.  more  pmi-fr.  The  '•  Compost  of  Ftholomeus,"  quoted  above,  says  oi 
Saturn,  "  he  is  mighty  of  himself.  .  .  It  is  more  than  xxx  yere  or  he  i>iay  roiius 
his  course.  .  .  .  Whan  he  doth  reyyne,  there  in  moche  debate." 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  81 


And  on  the  inorwe  whan  the  day  gan  spryng, 
Of  hors  and  hernoys  noyse  and  clateryng 
Ther  was  in  the  oostes  al  aboute  ; 
And  to  the  paleys  rood  thor  many  a  route 
Of  lordes,  upon  stecde  and  palfreys. 
Ther  inayst  thou  see  devysyng  of  herneys 
So  uncowth  and  so  riche  wrought  and  wel 
Of  goldsmithry,  of  browdyng,  and  of  steel ;  2500 

The  scheldes  bright,  testers,  and  trappures  ; 
Gold-beten  heliues,  hauberks,  and  cote  armures; 
Lordes  in  paramentes  on  her  coursers, 
Knightes  of  retenu,  and  eek  squyers  ; 
Rayhyng  tlie  speres,  and  heliues  bokelyng, 
Girdyng  of  scheeldes,  with  layneres  lasyug  ; 
Ther  as  need  is,  they  were  nothing  ydel ; 
Ther  fomen  steedes,  on  the  golden  bridel 
Gnawyng,  and  faste  armurers  also 

With  fyle  and  hamer  prikyng  to  and  fro  ;  2510 

Yemen  on  i'oote,  arid  knaves  many  0011 
With  schorte  staves,  as  thikke  as  they  may  goon  ; 
Pypes,  trompes,  nakers,  and  clariounes, 
That  in  the  batail  blewe  bloody  sownes  ; 
The  paleys  ful  of  pepul  up  and  doun, 
Heer  thre,  therten,  haldyng  her  quostioun, 
Dyvynyng  of  this  Thebans  knightes  two. 
Som  seyden  thus,  som  seyd  it  schal  be  so  ; 
Sorn  heelde  with  him  witli  the  blake  berd, 
Som  with  the  ballyd,  soin  with  thikke  hered  ;         2020 
Som  sayd  he  loked  gryin  as  he  wold  light ; 
He  hath  a  sparth  of  twenti  pound  of  wight. 
Thus  was  the  halle  ful  of  devynyng, 
Lang  after  that  the  soane  gan  to  spring. 
The  gret  Theseus  that  of  his  sleep  i    awaked 
With  menstralcy  and  noyse  that  was  maked, 
Held  yit  the  ehambre  of  his  paleys  riche, 
Til  that  the  Thebanes  knyghtes  bot-he  i-liche 
Honoured  weren,  and  into  paleys  fet. 
Duk  Theseus  was  at  a  wyndow  set. 
Arayed  right  as  he  were  god  in  trone. 
The  pepul  preseth  thider-ward  ful  sone 
Him  for  to  seen,  and  doon  him  reverence, 
2516.  heer  thre.    So  in  the  Teseide,— 

Qui  trc1,  la  quatro,  o  ijui  sei  aduuatl 
Tra  lor  inoairando  diverse  ragioue. 

2527.  held  yit  the  chambre.    So  the  Tesoide,— 

Anchor  le  riche  eamere  tenea 
Del  suo  puiazio. 


82  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  eek  herkeii  his  best  and  his  sentence. 
An  herowd  on  a  skaffold  made  a  hoo, 
Til  al  the  noyse  of  the  pepul  was  i-doo ; 
And  whan  he  sawh  the  pepul  of  noyse  al  stille, 
Thus  schewed  he  the  mighty  dukes  wille. 

"  The  lord  hath  of  his  heih  discrecioun 
Considered,  that  it  were  destruccioun  3040 

To  gentil  blood,  to  tighten  in  this  wise 
Of  mortal  batail  now  in  this  emprise  ; 
Wherfore  to  schapen  that  they  schuld  not  dye, 
He  wol  his  firste  purpos  modifye. 
No  man  therfore,  up  peyne  of  los  of  lyf, 
No  maner  schot,  ne  pollax,  ne  schort  knyf 
Into  the  lystes  seride,  or  thider  bryng  : 
Ne  schorte  swerd  for  to  stoke  the  point  bytyng 
No  man  ne  draw,  ne  bere  by  his  side. 
Ne  noman  schal  unto  his  felawe  ryde  2550 

But  oon  cours,  with  a  scharpe  spere  ; 
Feyne  if  lain  lust  on  foote,  himself  to  were. 
And  he  that  is  at  meschief,  schal  be  take, 
And  nat  slayn,  but  be  brought  to  the  stake, 
That  schal  be  ordeyned  on  eyther  syde  j 
But  thider  he  schal  by  force,  and  ther  abyde. 
Arid  if  so  falle,  a  cheventen  be  take 
On  eyther  side,  or  elles  sle  his  make, 
No  lenger  schal  the  tumeynge  laste.  2559 

God  spede  you  ;  goth  forth  and  ley  on  faste. 
With  long  swerd  and  with  mace  fight  your  fille. 
Goth  now  your  way ;  this  is  the  lordos  wille." 

The  voice  of  the  poepul  touchith  heven, 
So  lowde  cried  thei  with  mery  Steven  : 
"  (jod  save  such  a  lord  that  is  so  good, 
Me  wilneth  no  destruccioun  of  blood  !  " 
Up  goth  the  trompes  and  the  melodye, 
And  to  the  lystes  ryde  the  companye 
By  ordynaunce,  thurgli  the  cite  large, 
Hangyrig  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  not  with  sarge. 
Ful  hk  a  lord  this  nobul  duk  can  ryde, 
These  tuo  Thebans  on  eyther  side  ;  S578 

And  after  rood  the  queen,  and  Emelye, 

063.   The  voice  ofthepeopul.    So  the  Tescide, — 

Di  nobili  e  del  jwipulo  il  romore 
Toolio  le  stelli:,  se  fn  alto  e  forte, 
Li  (lei,  dicendo,  servi  tal  signore 
Che  de  gli  amici  suoi  fngie  la  inort*. 

CM.  mery-    The  Ms.  liar-,  reads  mylde. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  83 


And  after  hem  another  companye 

Of  one  and  other,  after  here  degre.  % 

And  thus  they  passeden  thurgh  that  cite, 

And  to  the  lystes  come  thei  by  tyme ; 

It  nas  not  of  the  day  yet  fully  pryine. 

Whan  sette  was  Theseus  riche  and  hye, 

Ypo/iTAth-  jueen  and  Emelye,  2580 

And  otuei  .adyes  in  here  degrees  aboute, 

Unto  the  settes  passe th  al  the  route. 

And  west-ward,  thorugh  the  gates  of  Mart, 

Arcite,  and  eek  the  hundred  of  his  part, 

With  baners  red  ys  entred  right  anoon ; 

And  in  that  selve  moment  Palamon 

Is,  under  Venus,  est-ward  in  that  place, 

With  buner  whyt,  and  hardy  cheer  of  face. 

In  al  the  world,  to  seeke  up  and  doun, 
So  even  withoute  variacioun  2590 

Ther  nere  suche  companyes  tweye. 
For  ther  nas  noon  so  wys  that  cowthe  seye, 
That  any  had  of  other  avauntage 
Of  worthines,  ne  staat,  ne  of  visage, 
So  evene  were  they  chosen  for  to  gesse. 
And  in  two  renges  faire  they  hem  dresse. 
A  nd  whan  here  names  i-rad  were  everychon, 
That  in  here  nombre  gile  were  ther  noon, 
Tho  were  the  gates  schitt,  arid  cried  lowde  : 
"  Doth  now  your  devoir,  yonge  knightes  proude !  " 
The  heraldz  laften  here  prikyng  up  and  doun  ; 
Now  ryngede  the  tromp  and  clarioun  ; 
Ther  is  nomore  to  say,  but  est  and  west 
In  goth  the  speres  into  the  rest ; 
Ther  seen  men  who  can  juste,  and  who  can  ryde  ; 
In  goth  the  scharpe  spere  into  the  side. 
Ther  schyveren  schaftes  uponschuldres  thyk  ; 
lie  feeleth  thurgh  the  herte-spon  the  prik. 
Up  sprengen  speres  on  twenty  foot  on  hight  \ 
Out  goon  the  swerdes  as  the  silver  bright.  2610 

The  helmes  there  to-hewen  and  to-schrede  ; 
Out  brast  the  blood,  with  stoute  stremes  reede. 
With  mighty  maces  the  bones  thay  to-breste. 
He  thurgh  the  thikkest  of  the  throng  gan  threete. 


367 i.  And  after  hem.    The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  these  two  ?inea  thus,- 

And  after  hem  of  IrulyeB  another  companye, 
And  after  hem  of  comunes  after  here  degr6. 

iffladyet  in  the  first  line  seems  redundant,  and  the  second  lins  appear*  to 
tore  beeu  blundered  by  a  careless  or  ignorant  scribe. 


84  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ther  stomblen  steedes  strong,  and  doun  can  falle. 

He  rolleth  under  foot  as  doth  a  balle. 

He  feyneth  on  his  foot  with  a  tronchoun, 

Arid  him  hurteleth  with  his  hors  adoun. 

He  thurgh  the  body  hurt  is,  and  siththen  take 

Maugre  his  heed,  and  brought  unto  the  stake,        2620 

As  forward  was,  right  ther  he  most  abyde. 

Another  lad  is  on  that  other  syde. 

And  som  tyme  doth  Theseus  Jiem  to  rest, 

Hem  to  refreissche,  and  drinke  if  hem  lest. 

Ful  ofte  a-day  have  this  Thebans  twoo 

Togider  y-met,  and  wrought  his  felaw  woo  ; 

Unhorsed  hath  ech  other  of  hern  tweye. 

Ther  nas  no  tygyr  in  the  vale  of  Galgopleye, 

Whan  that  hir  whelp  is  stole,  whan  it  is  lite, 

So  cruel  on  the  bunt,  as  is  Arcite 

For  jelous  hert  upon  this  Palamon  : 

Ne  in  Belmary  ther  is  no  fel  lyouii, 

That  hunted  is,  or  is  for  hunger  wood, 

Ne  of  his  prey  desireth  so  the  blood, 

As  Palamon  to  sle  his  foo  Arcite. 

The  jelous  strokes  on  here  helines  byte  '} 

Out  renneth  blood  on  be  the  here  sides  reede. 

Som  tyme  an  ende  ther  is  on  every  dede  ; 

For  er  the  sonne  unto  the  reste  went, 

The  strange  kyng  Emetreus  gan  hent  2640 

This  Palamon,  as  he  faught  with  Arcite, 

And  his  swerd  in  his  fleissch  he  did  byte ; 

And  by  the  force  of  twenti  he  is  take 

Unyolden,  and  i-drawe  unto  the  stake. 

And  in  the  rescous  of  this  Palamon 

The  stronge  kyng  Ligurgius  is  born  adoun  ; 

And  kyng  Emetreus  for  al  his  strengthe 

Is  born  out  of  his  sadel  his  swerdes  lengthe, 

So  hit  him  Palamon  er  he  were  take ;  2649 

But  al  for  nought,  he  was  brought  to  the  stake. 

His  hardy  herte  might  him  helpe  nought  ; 

He  most  abyde  whan  that  he  was  caught, 

By  force,  and  eek  by  composicioun. 

Who  sorweth  now  but  woful  Palamoun, 

That  moot  nomore  gon  agayn  to  fight  ? 

And  whan  that  Theseus  had  seen  that  sight, 

He  cryed,   "  Hoo  !  nomore,  for  it  is  doon  ! 

Ise  noon  schal  lenger  unto  his  felaw  goon. 

3617.  on  his  foot.    Ccmf.  1.  ii.x.2. 

^628.  Galgopleye.  Tyrwbitt  •pads  Galaphey,  and  conjectures  thatOhaucei 
meant  Galapha  in  Mauritania  Tingitana.  lielmarie  has  been  noticed  before, 
I.  67. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE. 


I  wol  be  trewe  juge,  and  nought  partye. 

Arcyte  of  Thebes  schal  have  Emelye,  26CO 

That  hath  by  his  fortune  hire  i-wonne." 

Anoon  ther  is  noyse  bygonne 

For  joye  of  this,  so  lowde  and  hey  withalle, 

It  semed  that  the  listes  wolde  falle. 

What  can  now  fayre  Venus  doon  above  ? 

What  seith  sche  now  ?  what  doth  this  queen  of  lo\e  ? 

But  wepeth  so,  for  wantyng  of  hir  wille, 

Til  that  hire  teeres  in  the  lystes  fille  ; 

Sche  seyde  :  "  I  am  aschamed  douteles." 

Satournus  seyde  :  "  Dough ter,  hold  thy  pees,         2670 

Mars  hath  his  wille,  his  knight  hath  his  boone, 

And  by  myn  heed  thou  schalt  be  esed  soone." 

The  trompes  with  the  lowde  mynstralcy, 

The  herawdes,  that  ful  lowde  yolle  and  cry, 

Been  in  here  joye  for  daun  Areyte. 

But  herkneth  me,  and  stynteth  but  a  lite, 

Which  a  miracle  bifel  anoon. 

This  Arcyte  fersly  hath  don  his  helm  adoun, 

And  on  his  courser  for  to  schewe  his  face 

He  priked  endlange  in  the  large  place,  2680 

Lokyug  upward  upon  this  Emelye  ; 

And  sche  agayn  him  cast  a  frendly  yghe, 

(For  wommeri,  as  for  to  speke  in  coinune, 

Thay  folwe  alle  the  favour  of  fortune) 

And  was  alle  his  in  cheer,  and  in  his  hert. 

Out  of  the  ground  a  fyr  infernal  stert, 

From  Pluto  send,  at  the  request  of  Saturn e, 

For  which  his  hors  for  feere  gan  to  turne, 

And  leep  asyde,  and  foundred  as  he  loop  ; 

And  or  that  Arcyte  may  take  keep,  2690 

He  pight  him  on  the  pomel  of  his  heed. 

That  in  that  place  he  lay  as  he  were  deed, 

His  brest  to-broken  with  his  sadil  bowe. 

As  blak  he  lay  as  eny  col  or  crowe, 

So  was  the  blood  y-ronne  in  his  face. 

Anon  he  was  y-born  out  of  the  place 

With  herte  sore,  to  Theseus  paleys. 

Tho  was  he  corven  out  of  his  harneys, 

And  in  a  bed  y-brought  ful  fair  and  blyve, 

For  yit  he  was  in  memory  and  on  lyve, 

And  alway  cryeng  after  Emelye. 

Duk  Theseus,  and  al  his  companye, 

Is  comen  horn  to  Athenes  his  cite", 

With  alle  blys  and  gret  solempnite. 

Al  be  it  that  this  aventure  was  falle, 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


He  nolde  nought  discomforten  hem  alle. 

Men  seyde  eek,  that  Arcita  schuld  nought  dye, 

He  schal  be  helyd  of  his  maladye. 

And  of  another  thing  they  were  as  fayn, 

That  of  hem  alle  ther  was  noon  y-slayn,  2710 

Al  were  they  sore  hurt,  and  namely  oon, 

That  with  a  spere  was  thirled  his  brest  boon. 

To  other  woundes,  and  to  broken  armes, 

Some  hadde  salve,  and  some  hadde  cbarmes, 

Fermacyes  of  herbes,  and  eek  save 

They  dronken,  for  they  wolde  here  lyves  have. 

For  which  this  noble  duk,  as  he  wel  can, 

Comforteth  and  honoureth  every  man, 

And  made  revel  al  the  lange  night, 

Unto  the  straunge  lordes,  as  was  right.  2720 

]Sre  ther  was  holden  no  discomfytyng, 

But  as  a  justes  or  as  a  turneying  ; 

For  sothly  ther  was  no  discomfiture, 

For  fallynge  is  but  an  adventure. 

Ne  to  be  lad  with  fors  unto  the  stake 

Unyolden,  and  with  twenty  knightes  take, 

A  person  allone,  withouten  moo, 

And  rent  forth  by  arme,  foot,  and  too, 

And  eke  his  steede  dryven  forth  with  staves, 

With  footemen,  bothe  yernen  and  eke  knaves,         2730 

It  was  aretted  him  no  vylonye, 

Ne  no  maner  man  heldn  it  no  cowardye. 

For  which  Theseus  lowd  anon  leet  crie, 
To  stynteri  al  rancour  and  al  envye, 
The  gree  as  wel  on  o  syde  as  on  other, 
And  every  side  lik,  as  otheres  brother  ; 
And  gaf  hem  g'Ttes  after  here  degre, 
And  fully  heeld  a  feste  dayes  thre; 
And  conveyed  the  knightes  worthily 
Out  of  his  toun  a  journee  largely.  2740 

And  horn  went  every  man  the  righte  way, 
Ther  was  no  more,  but,  "  Farwel,  have  good  day  I  " 
Of  this  batayl  I  wol  no  more  endite, 
But  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcyte. 

Swelleth  the  brest  of  Arcyte,  and  the  sore 

2714,  2715.  cliarrnes  —  stave.  It  may  be  observed  that  the  salves,  ch«  IDS, 
and  pharmacies  of  herbs,  were  the  principal  remedies  of  the  physician  in  the 
age  of  Chaucer.  Save  (xalria,  the  herb  sage)  «  as  considered  one  of  the  moat 
universally  efficient  of  the  medieval  remedies. 

2738.  day  ex  thre.  Three  days  were  the  usual  duration  of  a  feast  among 
our  early  forefathers.  As  far  back  as  the  seventh  century,  when  Wilfred 
consecrated  his  church  at  Kipon.  he  held  —  mugnuin  convivium  trium  dierum 
et  noctium  reget*  cum  omni  populo  l.-r-.tificantes.  Eddius.  Vit.  S.  \Viif.  c.  17, 
1  am  told  that  in  Scotland  these  feasts  of  three  days  and  throe  nights  have 
beea  prtnerved  trad  '.ionally  to  a  comparatively  recent  period. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  87 


Encresceth  at  his  herte  more  and  more. 

The  clothred  blood,  for  eny  lecho-craft, 

Corrumpith,  and  is  in  his  bouk  i-laft, 

That  notlier  veyne  blood,    ne  ventusyng, 

Ne  drynk  of  herbes  may  ben  his  lielpyng.  2750 

The  vortu  expulsif,  or  animal, 

Fro  tin  Ike  vertu  cleped  natural, 

Ne  may  the  venym  voyde,  ne  expelle. 

The  pypes  of  his  lounges  gan  to  svvelle, 

And  every  lacerte  in  his  brest  adoun 

Is  schent  with  venym  and  corrupcioun. 

Him  gayneth  nother,  for  to  get  his  lyf, 

Vomyt  tip-ward,  ne  doun-ward  laxatif  ; 

Al  is  to:broken  thilke  regioun  ; 

Nature  hath  now  no  dominacioun.  2760 

And  certeynly  wher  nature  wil  not  wirche, 

Farwel  phisik  ;  go  bere  the  man  to  chirche. 

This  al  and  som,  that  Arcyte  moste  dye. 

For  which  he  sendeth  after  Emelye, 

And  Palamon,  that  was  his  cosyn  deere. 

Than  seyd  he  thus,  as  ye  sehul  after  heere. 

"  Naught  may  the  woful  spirit  in  myn  herte 
Declare  a  poyrit  of  my  sorwes  smerte 
To  you,  my  lady,  that  I  love  most ; 
But  I  byquethe  the  service  of  my  gost  2770 

To  you  aboven  every  creature, 
Syn  that  my  lyf  may  no  longer  dure. 
Alias,  the  woo  !  alias,  the  peyries  stronge,  • 
That  I  for  you  have  sullred,  and  so  longe  ! 
Alias,  the  deth  !  alias,  myn  Emelye  ! 
Alias,  departyng  of  our  companye  ! 
Alias,  myn  hertes  queen  !  alias,  my  wyf ! 
Myn  hertes  lady,  ender  of  my  lyf ! 
What  is  this  world  ?  what  asken  men  to  have  ? 
Now  with  his  love,  now  in  his  colde  grave  2780 

A  Hone  withouten  eny  companye. 
Farwel.  my  swete !  farwel,  myn  Emelye  ! 
And  softe  take  me  in  your  armes  tweye, 
For  love  of  (rod,  and  herkneth  what  1  seye. 
I  have  heer  with  my  cosyn  Palamon 
Had  stryf  and  rancour  many  a  day  i-gon, 
For  love  of  yow,  and  eek  for  jelousie. 
And  Jupiter  so  wis  my  sowle  gye, 
To  speken  of  a  servaunt  proprely, 

With  alle  circumstaunces  trewely.  2790 

That  is  to  seyn,  trouthe,  honour,  and  knighthede, 
\Vysdoin,  humblesse,  astaat,  and  by  kynrede, 


88  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Fredarn,  and  al  that  longeth  to  that  art, 

So  Jupiter  have  of  my  soule  part, 

As  in  this  world  right  now  ne  know  I  non 

So  worthy  to  be  loved  as  Pal  am  on, 

That  serveth  you,  and  wol  do  al  his  lyf. 

And  if  that  ye  schul  ever  be  a  wyf, 

Forget  not  Palamon,  that  gentil  man." 

And  with  that  word  his  speche  faile  gan  ;  280«J 

For  fro  his  herte  up  to  his  brest  was  come 

The  cold  of  deth,  that  him  had  overcome. 

And  yet  moreover  in  his  armes  twoo 

The  vital  strength  is  lost,  and  al  agoo. 

Only  the  intellect,  withouten  more, 

That  dwelled  in  his  herte  sik  and  sore, 

Gan  fayle,  whan  the  herte  felte  deth  ; 

Duskyng  his  eyghen  two,  and  fayled  breth. 

But  on  his  lady  yit  he  cast  his  ye  ; 

His  laste  word  was,  "  Mercy,  Emelye  !  "  2810 

His  spiryt  chaunged  was,  and  wente  ther, 

As  I  cam  never,  I  can  nat  tellen  wher. 

Therfore  I  stynte,  I  nam  no  dyvynistre  ; 

Of  soules  fynde  I  not  in  this  registre, 

Ne  me  list  nat  thopynyouiis  to  telle 

Of  hem,  though  that  thei  wyten  wher  they  dwelle. 

Arcyte  is  cold,  ther  Mars  his  soule  gye  ; 

Now  wol  I  speke  forth  of  Emelye. 

Shright  Emely,  and  howled  Palamon, 

And  Theseus  his  sustir  took  anon  2820 

Swownyng,  and  bar  hir  fro  the  corps  away. 

What  helpeth  it  to  tarye  forth  the  day, 

To  telle  how  sche  weep  bothe  eve  and  morwe  ? 

For  in  swich  caas  wommen  can  have  such  sorwe, 

Whan  that  here  housbonds  ben  from  hoin  ago, 

That  for  the  more  part  they  sorwen  so, 

Or  elles  fallen  in  such  maladye, 

That  atte  laste  certeynly  they  dye. 

Infynyt  been  the  sorwes  and  the  teeres 

Of  old'e  folk,  and  folk  of  tendre  yeere*  ; 

2813.  Therefore  I  stynte.  Up  to  this  point,  the  description  of  Aroite* 
dying  momenis  is  taken  literally  from  the  Teseidu.  "This,"  Tyrwhitt  ob- 
serves, "  is  apparently  a  fling  at  Boccace's  pompous  description  of  the  pass- 
age of  Arcite's  soul  to  heaven." 

2830.  folk,  and  folk.  The  Ms.  Had.  reads  olde  folk  that  bm  of  (entire.  Th« 
lines  which  follow  are  read  by  Tyrwhitt,  on  the  authority  of  eome  of  the  Mas 
(perhaps  correctly),  thus, — 

In  all  the  toun  for  deth  of  this  Theban  : 
For  him  ther  wepeth  bothe  childe  and  man. 
So  gret  a  weping  was  ther  rion  certain, 
Whan  Hector  was  y-brought  all  fresh  y-Blain 
To  Troy,  &c. 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE  89 


So  gret  a  wepyng  was  ther  noon  certayn, 

When  Ector  was  i-brought,  al  freissh  i-slayn, 

As  that  ther  was  for  deth  of  this  Theban  ; 

For  sorwe  of  him  ther  weepeth  bothe  child  and  man 

At  Troye,  alias  !  the  pite  tliat  was  there, 

Cracchyng  of  cheekes,  rendyng  eek  of  here. 

"Why  woldist  thou  be  deed,"  this  wommen  crye, 

"  And  haddest  gold  ynowgh,  and  Emelye?" 

No  man  mighte  glade  Theseus, 

Savyng  his  olde  fader  Egeus,  3840 

That  knew  this  worldes  transmutacioun, 

As  he  hadde  seen  it  torne  up  and  douii, 

Jove  after  woo,  and  woo  aftir  gladnesse  ; 

And  sehewed  him  ensample  and  likenesse. 

"  Right  as  ther  deyde  rie\rer  man,"  quod  he, 
"That  he  ne  lyved  in  erthe  in  som  degree, 
Yit  ther  ne  lyvede  never  man,"  he  seyde, 
"  In  al  this  world,  that  som  tynie  he  ne  deyde. 
This  world  nys  but  a  thurghfare  ful  of  woo, 
Arid  we  ben  pilgryms,  passyng  to  and  froo  ;  2850 

Deth  is  an  ende  of  every  worldly  sore." 
And  over  al  this  yit  seide  he  mochil  more 
To  this  effect,  ful  wysly  to  enhorte 
The  peple,  that  they  schulde  him  recomforte. 

Duk  Theseus,  with  al  his  busy  cure, 
Cast  busyly  wher  tliat  the  sepulture 
Of  good  Arcyte  may  best  y-maked  be, 
And  eek  most  honurable  in  his  degre. 
And  atte  last  he  took  conclusioun, 

That  ther  as  fn-st  Arcite  and  Palamon  2880 

lladden  for  love  the  batail  hem  bytwene, 
That  in  the  selve  grove,  soote  and  greene- 
Ther  as  he  hadde  his  amorous  desires, 
His  compleynt,  and  for  love  his  hoote  fyres, 
He  wolde  ma've  a  fyr,  in  which  thofflce 
Of  funeral  he  might  al  accomplice  ; 
And  leet  comaunde  anon  to  hakke  and  hewe 
The  okes  old,  and  lay  hem  on  a  rewe 
In  culpouns  well  arrayed  for  to  brenne. 
His  officers  with  swifte  foot  they  rerme,  2870 

And  ryde  anon  at  his  comaundement. 
And  after  this,  Theseus  hath  i-sent 
After  a  beer,  and  it  al  overspradde 
With  cloth  of  golde,  the  richest  that  he  hadde. 
And  of  the  same  stite  he  clad  Arcyte  ; 
Upon  his  hondes  were  his  glo^s  white  ; 
Eko  on  his  heed  a  croune  of  laurer  grene  ; 


90  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  in  his  bond  a  swerd  ful  bright  and  kene. 

He  leyde  him  bare  the  visage  on  the  beere, 

Therwith  he  weep  that  pile  was  to  heere.  2880 

And  for  the  poeple  schuide  see  him  alle, 

Whan  it  was  day  he  brought  hem  to  the  halle. 

That  roreth  of  the  cry  and  of  the  soun 

T ho  cam  this  woful  Theban  Palamoun, 

With  flotery  berd,  and  ruggy  asshy  heeres, 

In  clothis  blak,  y-dropped  al  with  teeres, 

And,  passyng  other,  of  wepyng  Emelye, 

The  rewfullest  of  al  the  companye. 

And  in  as  moche  as  the  service  schuide  be 

The  more  nobul  and  riche  in  his  degre,  2890 

Duk  Theseus  leet  forth  thre  steedes  bryng, 

That  trapped  were  in  steel  al  gliteryng, 

And  covered  with  armes  of  dan  Arcyte. 

Upon  the  steedes,  that  weren  grete  and  white, 

Ther  seeteri  folk,  of  which  oon  bar  his  scheeld, 

Another  his  spere  up  in  his  hoiides  heeld  ; 

The  thridde  bar  with  him  his  bowe  Turkeys, 

Of  brend  gold  was  the  caas  and  eek  the  herneys  ; 

And  riden  forth  a  paas  with  sorwful  chere 

Toward  the  grove,  as  ye  schul  after  heere.  2900 

The  nobles  of  the  Grekes  that  ther  were 

Upon  here  schuldre*  <  avieden  the  beere, 

With  slak  paas,  and  eyhen  reed  and  wete, 

Thurghout  the  cite,  by  the  maister  streete, 

That  sprad  was  al  with  blak,  and  wonder  hye 

Right  of  the  same  is  al  the  stret  i-wrye. 

Upon  the  right  hond  went  olde  Egeus, 

And  011  that  other  syde  duk  Theseus, 

With  vessels  in  here  hand  of  gold  wel  fyn, 

As  ful  of  hony,  mylk,  and  blood,  and  wyn  ;  2910 

Eke  Palamon,  wyith  a  gret  companye  ; 

And  after  that  com  woful  Emelye, 

With  fyr  in  hond,  as  was  at  that  tyme  the  gyse, 

To  do  thoffiee  of  funeral  servise. 

Heygh  labour,  and  ful  gret  apparailyng 
Was  at  the  service  and  at  the  fyr  makyng, 
That  with  his  grene  top  the  heven  raughte, 
And  twenty  fadme  of  brede  tharme  straughte  ; 
This  is  to  seyn,  the  boowes  were  so  brode. 
Of  stree  first  was  ther  leyd  ful  many  a  loode.  2U2J 

But  how  the  fyr  was  makyd  up  on  highte, 

2407.  /.iV  Ivwe.  Turkeys.   In  the  Koman  de  la  Rose,  1.  913,  Love  is  deecribod 
aa  bt-ftriii:.;  diiixdrs  Turqiiois. 

3i)L!J.   But  Itow  the  fyr.    The  description  of  the  funeral,  and  /uveral  otliot 


THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  91 

And  eek  the  names  how  the  trees  highte, 

As  ook,  fyr,  birch,  asp,  aldir,  holm,  popler, 

Wilw,  elm,  plane,  assch,  box,  chesteyn,  lynde,  laurer, 

Mapul,  thorn,  beech,  hasil,  ew,  wyppyltre, 

How  they  weren  felde,  schal  nought  be  told  for  me  ; 

Ne  how  the  goddes  roniien  up  and  doun, 

Disheryt  of  here  habitacioun, 

In  which  they  whilom  woned  in  rest  and  pees* 

Nymphes,  Faunes,  and  Amadryes  ;  3934 

Ne  how  the  beestes  and  the  briddes  alle 

Fledden  for  feere,  whan  the  woode  was  falle  ; 

Ne  how  the  ground  agast  was  of  the  light, 

That  was  nought  wont  to  see  no  sonne  bright  ; 

Ne  how  the  fyr  was  couchid  first  with  stree. 

And  thanne  with  drye  stykkes  cloven  in  three, 

And  thanne  with  grerie  woode  and  spicerie, 

And  thanne  with  cloth  of  gold  and  with  perrye, 

And  gerlandes  hangyng  with  ful  many  a  flour, 

The  myrre,  theiisens  with  al  so  gret  odour;  2940 

Ne  how  Arcyte  lay  among  al  this, 

Ne  what  riche^se  aboute  his  body  is  ; 

Ne  how  that  Ernely,  as  was  the  gyse, 

Putt  in  the  fyr  of  funeral  servise; 

Ne  how  sche  swowned  whan  sche  made  the  fyre, 

Ne  what  schn  spak,  ne  what  was  hire  desire  ; 

Ne  what  jewels  men  in  the  fyr  tho  cast, 

Whan  that  the  fyr  was  gret  and  brente  fast ; 

Ne  how  sum  caste  her  scheeld,  and  summe  her  spere, 

And  of  here  vestimentz,  which  that  they  Avere,         2950 

And  cuppes  ful  of  wyn,  and  mylk,  and  blood, 

Unto  the  fyr,  that  brent  as  it  were  wood  ; 

Ne  how  the  Grrekes  with  an  huge  route 

Thre  tymes  ryden  al  the  fyr  aboute 

Upon  the  lefte  hond,  with  an  lieih  schoutyng, 

And  tliries  with  here  spere*  clateryng  ; 

And  times  how  the  ladyes  gan  to  crye  ; 

Ne  how  that  lad  was  home-ward  Emelye ; 

Ne  how  Arcyte  is  brent  to  aschen  colde  ; 

Ne  how  the  liche-wake  was  y-holde  29W 

Al  thilke  night,  ne  how  the  Grekes  pleye 

parts  of  this  poem,  are  taken  originally  from  Thebaid  of  Statins,  U  »chlcfc 
Chaucer  has  already  made  a  direct  reference,  1.  2296. 

i!900.  Amadryes.  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  MSS.  I  have  consulted.  It 
in,  of  course,  a  corruption  of  Hamadiyados. 

2y")3.  Greket.  The  scribe  of  the  Ms  llarl.  has  by  inadvertence  (ns  it  is  only 
in  this  instance)  substituted  the  more  legitimate  old  English  form  of  \}>c 
word,  Grif/'tys.  Chaucer,  following  the  Italian,  and  acquainted  \viiii  ih« 
clftesic  writers,  uee^  the  fonn  Grtkcs  tliroughoiit  ihe  Knigliti-B  Tale. 

iiytiO.     'J'his  lino  is  omitted  in  Ms    Marl.,  by  :tv  oversight  of  the  scribo. 


92  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

The  wake-pleyes,  kepe  I  nat  to  seye  ; 
Who  wrastleth  best  naked,  with  oyle  enoynt, 
]Se  who  that  bar  him  best  in  110  disjoynt. 
I  wol  not  telle  eek  how  they  ben  goon 
Horn  til  Athenes  whan  the  pley  is  doon. 
But  sehortly  to  the  poynt  now  woi  I  wende, 
And  inaken  of  my  longe  tale  an  ende. 

By  proces  and  by  lengthe  of  certeyn  yeres 
Al  styntyd  is  the  mornyng  and  the  teeres  2970 

Of  alle  (jrekys,  by  oon  general  assent. 
Than  senied  me  ther  was  a  parlernent 
At  Athenes,  on  a  certeyn  poynt  and  cas  ; 
Among  the  which e  poyntes  spoken  was 
To  han  with  certeyn  contrees  alliaunce, 
And  have  fully  of  The  bans  obeissance. 
For  which  this  noble  Theseus  anon 
Let  sendea  after  geiitil  Palamon, 
Unwist  of  him  what  was  the  cause  and  why  ; 
But  in  his  blake  clothes  sorwfully  2980 

He  cam  at  his  comaundement  on  hye. 
Tho  sente  Theseus  for  Emelye. 

Whan  they  were  sette,  and  hussht  was  al  the  place, 
And  Theseus  abyden  hadde  a  space 
Or  eny  word  cam  fro  his  wyse  brest, 
His  eyen  set  he  ther  as  was  his  lest, 
And  with  a  sad  visage  he  syked  stille, 
A  nd  after  that  right  thus  he  seide  his  wille. 

"  The  first  e  moevere  of  the  cause  above, 
Whan  he  first  made  the  fayre  cheyne  of  lov«,  2990 

Gret  was  theffect,  and  heigh  was  his  entente  ; 
Wei  wist  he  why,  and  what  therof  he  inente  ; 
For  with  that  faire  cheyrie  of  love  he  bond 
The  fyr,  the  watir,  the  eyr,  and  eek  the  lond 
In  certeyn  boundes,  that  they  may  not  flee  ; 
That  same  pry  rice  and  moevere  eek,"  quod  he, 
"  Hath  stabled,  in  this  wrecched  world  adotm, 
Certeyn  dayes  and  duracioun 
To  alle  that  er  engendrid  in  this  place, 
Over  the  which  day  they  may  nat  pace.  300<) 

Al  mowe  they  yit  wel  here  dayes  abregge  ; 

296-!.  The  description  of  the  funeral,  like  that  of  the  tournament,  present* 
ft  curious  mixture  of  classic  and  medieval  ideas,  such  as  is  found  in  other 
works  of  the  same  age. 

•~'!)93.  chiyne  of  love.  This  sentiment  is  taken  from  Boethius,  De  Conaolat. 
Phil,  lib.  ii.  met.  8, — 

Hanc  rerum  seriem  ligat, 
Terras  ac  pelagus  regens, 
Et  co;lo  impentans,  amor. 
What  follows  is  taken  from  the  same  writer,  lib.  iv.  pr.  ft. 


THE  KNLGETES  TALE.  93 


Ther  necdeth  non  auctorite  tallegge  ; 

For  it  is  preved  by  experience, 

But  that  me  lust  declare  my  sentence. 

Than  may  men  wel  by  this  ordre  discerne, 

That  thilke  moevere  stabul  is  and  eterne. 

Wol  may  men  knowe,  but  it  be  a  fool, 

That  every  partye  dyryveth  from  his  hool. 

For  nature  hath  riat  take  his  bygynnyng 

Of  no  partye  ne  cantel  of  a  thing,  801*1 

Bui  of  a  thing  that  parfyt  is  and  stable, 

Descendyng  so,  til  it  be  corumpable. 

And  therfore  of  his  wyse  purveaunce 

Ho  hath  so  wel  biset  his  orderiaunce, 

That  spices  of  thinges  and  progressiouns 

Schullen  endure  by  successiouns, 

And  nat  eterne  be  withoute  lye  : 

This  maistow  understand  and  se  at  ye. 

"  Lo  the  ook,  that  hath  so  long  norisschyng 
Fro  tyme  that  it  gynneth  first  to  spring,  8020 

And  hath  so  long  a  lyf,  as  we  may  see,. 
Yet  atte  laste  wasted  is  the  tree. 

"  Considereth  eek,  how  that  the  harde  stoon 
Under  oure  foot,  on  which  we  trede  and  goon, 
Yit  \vasteth  it,  as  it  lith  by  the  weye. 
The  brode  ryver  som  tyme  wexeth  dreye. 
The  grete  townes  see  we  wane  and  wende. 
Than  may  I  see  that  al  thing  hath  an  ende. 

"  Of  man  and  wouiman  se  we  wel  also, 
That  wendeth  in  oon  of  this  termes  two,  3030 

That  is  to  seyn,  in  youthe  or  elles.in  age, 
He  moot  beri  deed,  the  kyng  as  schal  a  page  ; 
Sum  in  his  bed,  som  in  the  deepe  see, 
Som  in  the  large  feeld,  as  men  may  se. 
Ther  helpeth  naught,  al  goth  thilke  weye. 
Thanne  may  I  see  wel  that  al  thing  schal  deye 
What  maketh  this  but  Jubiter  the  kyng? 
The  which  is  prynce  and  cause  of  alle  thing, 
Convertyng  al  unto  his  propre  wille, 
From  which  he  is  dereyned,  soth  to  telle. 
And  here  agayn  no  creature  on  lyve 
Of  no  degre  avayleth  for  to  stry ve. 

' '  Than  is  it  wisdom,  as  thenketh  me, 

»!3.  Lo  the  ook.    From  the  Teseide,— 

Li  querci,  che  anno  si  lungo  nutrim«nV> 
E  tanta  vita  quaiito  noi  vedemo, 
Anno  pur  alcun  tempo  linimento. 
I.,e  dure  pietru  ancor,  etc. 


1»4  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

To  maken  vertu  of«necessite, 

And  take  it  wel,  that  we  may  nat  eschewe, 

And  namely  that  that  to  us  alle  is  dewe. 

And  who  so  gruccheth  aught,  he  doth  folye, 

And  rebel  is  to  him  that  al  may  gye. 

And  certeynly  a  man  hath  most  honour 

To  deyen  in  his  excellence  and  flour,  3050 

Whan  he  is  siker  of  his  goode  name. 

Than  hath  he  doon  his  freend,  ne  him,  no  schame. 

And  glader  ought  his  freend  ben  of  his  deth, 

Whan  with  honour  is  yolden  up  the  breth, 

Thanne  whan  his  name  appelled  is  for  age  ; 

For  al  forgeten  is  his  vasselage. 

Thanne  is  it  best,  as  for  a  worthi  fame, 

To  dye  whan  a  man  is  best  of  name. 

The  contrary  of  al  this  is  wilfulnesse. 

Why  grucchen  we  ?  why  have  we  hevynesse,  3060 

That  good  Arcyte,  of  chyvalry  the  flour, 

Departed  is,  with  worschip  and  honour 

Out  of  this  foule  prisoun  of  this  lyf  ? 

Why  gruccheth  heer  his  cosyii  and  his  wyf 

Of  his  welfare,  that  loven  him  so  wel  ? 

Can  he  hern  thank  ?  nay,  God  woot,  never  a  del, 

That  bothe  his  soule  and  eek  hemself  offende, 

And  yet  they  may  here  lustes  nat  amende. 

"  What  may  I  conclude  of  this  longe  serye, 
But  aftir  wo  I  rede  us  to  be  merye,  3070 

And  thanke  Jubiter  of  al  his  grace  ? 
And  or  that  we  departe  fro  this  place, 
I  rede  that  we  rn^ke,  of  sorwes  two, 
O  parfyt  joye  lastyng  ever  mo  : 
And  loketh  now  wher  most  sorwe  is  her-inne, 
Ther  wol  we  first  amenden  and  bygynne. 

"  Sustyr,"  quod  he,  "  this  is  my  ful  assent, 
With  all  thavys  heer  of  my  parlement, 
That  gentif  Palamon,  your  owne  knight,  3079 

That  serveth  yow  with  herte,  will,  and  might, 
And  ever  hath  doon,  syn  fyrst  tyme  ye  him  kneve, 
That  ye  schul  of  your  grace  upon  him  rewe, 
And  take  him  for  your  housbond  and  for  lord  ; 
Lene  me  youre  hand,  for  this  is  oure  acord. 
Let  see  now  of  your  wommanly  pite. 
He  is  a  kynges  brothir  sone,  pardee  ; 
And  though  he  were  a  pore  bachilier, 
Syn  he  hath  served  you  so  many  a  yeer, 
And  had  for  you  so  gret  adversite, 
It  moste  be  considered,  trusteth  me.  3090 


THE  PROLOGE  OF  THE  IfYLLER.  95 

For  gentil  mercy  aughte  passe  right." 

Than  seyde  he  thus  to  Palamon  ful  right ; 

"  I  trowe  ther  needeth  litel  sermonyng 

To  make  you  assente  to  this  thing. 

Com  neer,  and  tak  your  lady  by  the  bond." 

Bitwix  hem  was  i-maad  anon  the  bond, 

That  highte  inatrimoyn  or  mariage, 

By  alle  the  counseil  of  the  baronage. 

And  thus  with  blys  and  eek  with  melodye 

Hath  Palamon  i-wedded  Emelye.  31 OC 

And  God,  that  al  this  wyde  world  hath  wrought, 

Send  him  his  love,  that  hath  it  deere  i-bought. 

For  now  is  Palamori  in  al  his  wele, 

Lyvynge  in  blisse,  richesse,  and  in  hele, 

And  Emelye  him  loveth  so  tendirly, 

And  he  hir  serveth  al  so  gentilly, 

That  never  was  ther  wordes  hem  bitweene 

Of  jelousy,  ne  of  non  othir  tene. 

Thus  endeth  Palamon  and  Emelye  ; 

And  God  save  al  this  fayre  companye  !  3110 

THE  PROLOGE  OF  THE  MYLLEB. 

WHAN  that  the  Knight  had  thus  his  tale  i-told, 
In  al  the  route  nas  ther  yong  ne  old, 
That  he  ne  seyde  it  was  a  noble  story, 
And  worthi  to  be  drawen  to  memory  ; 
And  namely  the  gentils  everichoon. 
Our  Host  tho  lowh  and  swoor,  "  So  moot  I  goon, 
This  goth  right  wel  ;  unbokeled  is  the  male  ; 
Let  se  now  who  schal  telle  another  tale  ; 
For  trewely  this  game  is  wel  bygonne. 
Now  telleth  ye,  sir  Monk,  if  that  ye  konne  3120 

Somwhat,  to  quyte  with  the  kriightes  tale." 
The  Myller  that  for-drunken  was  al  pale, 
So  that  unnethe  upon  his  hors  he  sat, 
He  wold  avale  nowther  hood  ne  hat, 
Ne  abyde  no  man  for  his  curtesye, 
But  in  Pilates  voys  he  gan  to  crye, 
And  swor  by  armes  and  by  blood  and  bones, 
"  I  can  a  noble  tale  for  the  noones, 
With  which  I  wol  now  quyte  the  knightes  tale." 
Oure  Hoost  saugh  wel  how  dronke  he  was  of  ale, 
And  seyde,  "Robyn,  abyde,  my  leve  brother,  3131 

Som  bettre  man  schal  telle  first  another  ; 
Abyd,  and  let  us  workeri  thriftyly." 

3126.    Pilates  roj/a.    Pilate  was  probably  represented  in  tbe  popu 
Verieg  speaking  in  a  gi nil  loud  voice,  as  "tie  in  power  and  authority. 


95  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES- 

"  By  (roddes  soule  ! ':  quod  he,  "  that  wol  nat  I, 
For  I  wol  speke,  or  elles  go  my  way." 
Oare  Host  answerd,  "Tel  on,  a  devel  way! 
Ihou  avt  a  fool ;  thy  witt  is  overcome." 

"Now  herkrieth,"  quod  this  Myller,  "  al  and  some; 
But  first  I  make  a  protestacioun, 
That  I  am  dronke,  1  knowe  wel  by  my  soun  ; 
&nd  therfore  if  that  I  mys-speke  or  seye,  3141 

W>te  it  the  ale  of  Southwerk,  I  you  preye ; 
For  I  wol  telle  a  legende  and  a  lyf 
Bothe  of  a  carpenter  and  of  his  wyf, 
How  that  the  clerk  hath  set  the  wrightes  cappe." 

The  Reve  answered  and  seyde,  (i  Stynt  thi  clappe. 
Let  be  thy  lewed  drunken  harlottrye. 
It  is  a  synne,  and  eek  a  greet  folye 
To  apeyren  eny  man,  or  him  defame, 
And  eek  to  brynge  wyve?  in  ylle  name.  3150 

Thou  mayst  ynowgh  of  c*her  thinges  seyn." 
This  dronken  Miller  spak  ful  sone  ageyn, 
And  seyde,  "  Leeve  brother  Osewold, 
Who  hath  no  wyf,  he  is  no  cokewold. 
But  I  seye  not  therfore  that  thou  art  oon, 
Ther  been  ful  goode  wyves  many  oon. 
And  ever  a  thousand  goode  agayns  oon  badde  ; 
That  knowest  thou  wel  thyself,  but  if  thou  madde. 
Why  art  thou  angry  with  my  tale  now  ? 
I  have  a  wyf,  parde  !  as  wel  as  thow, 
Yet  nolde  I,  for  the  oxen  in  my  plough 
Take  upon  me  more  than  ynough  ;  3160 

Though  that  thou  deme  thiself  that  thou  be  oon, 
I  wol  bileeve  wel  that  I  am  noon. 
An  housbond  schal  not  be  inquisityf 
Of  Goddes  pryvete,  ne  of  his  wyf. 
So  that  he  may  fynde  Goddes  foysoun  there, 
Of  the  remenaunt  needeth  nought  enquere." 
What  schuld  I  seye,  but  that  this  proud  Myllere 
He  nolde  his  wordes  for  no  man  forbere, 
But  tolde  his  cherlisch  tale  in  his  manere, 
Me  athinketh,  that  I  schal  reherce  it  heere.  8170 

And  therfor  every  gentil  wight  I  preye, 
For  Goddes  love,  as  deme  nat  that  I  seye, 
Of  y  vel  entent,  but  for  I  moot  reherse 
Here  wordes  alle,  al  be  they  better  or  werse, 

?156.    The  next  two  lines  are  omitted  in  Tyrwhitt's  text. 

The  Millcres  Tale.  I  have  not  met  with  this  story  elsewhere  than  in 
Chaucer,  though  it  is  more  than  prob.-t.ble  that  he  took  it  from  an  older  Freixik 
fabliau,  which  is  now  lost,  or  only  preservwl  in  eonie  inedited  and  little 
known  &I8. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE.  97 


Or  elles  falsen  som  of  my  mateere. 

And  therfor  who  so  list  it  nat  to  heere, 

Turne  over  the  leef,  and  cheese  another  tale  ; 

For  he  schal  fynde  ynowe  bothe  gret  and  sinale, 

Of  storial  thing  that  toucheth  gentilesse, 

And  eek  moralite,  and  holynesse.  3130 

Blameth  nat  me,  if  that  ye  cheese  amys. 

The  Miller  is  a  cherl,  ye  know  wel  this  ; 

So  was  the  Reeve  and  othir  many  mo, 

And  harlotry  they  tolden  bothe  two. 

Avyseth  you,  arid  put  me  out  of  blame  ; 

And  men  schulde  nat  make  ernest  of  game. 

THE   MILLERES  TALE. 

WHIiOM  ther  was  dwellyng  at  Oxenford 
A  ric'  e  gnof,  that  gestes  heeld  to  boorde. 
And  of  his  craft  he  was  a  carpenter 
With  him  ther  was  dwellyng  a  pore  scoler,  3190 

Had  lerned  art,  but  al  his  fantasye 
Was  torned  for  to  lerne  astrologye, 
And  cowde  a  certeyn  of  coriclusiouns 
To  deme  by  interrogaciouris, 
If  that  men  axed  him  in  certeyn  houres, 
Whan  that  men  schuld  han  drought  or  ellys  schoures  ; 
Or  if  men  axed  him  what  schulde  bifalle 
Of  every  thing,  I  may  nought  reken  hem  alle. 
This  clerk  was  cleped  heende  Nicholas  ; 
Of  derne  lovo  he  cowde  and  of  solas  ;  3200 

And  therwitli  he  was  sleigh  and  ful  prive, 
And  lik  a  mayden  meke  for  to  se. 
A  chain bir  had  he  in  that  hostillerye 
Alone,  withouten  eny  compaignye, 
Ful  fetish*  i-dight  with  herbes  soote, 
And  he  himself  as  swete  as  is  the  roote 
Of  lokorys,  or  eny  cetewale. 
His  almagest,  and  bookes  gret  arid  smale, 
His  astrylabe,  longyng  for  his  art, 
His  angry  in  stoones,  leyen  faire  apart  32 1C 

3203.  that.  The  Ms.  Har'.  reads  i'i  his  hos(ll!eTi/e.  It  may  he  observed, 
that  it  was  usual  in  the  university  for  two  or  more  students  to  ha.-e  one 
room. 

3208.  almagest.  This  book,  the  work  of  Ptolemy,  derived  through  the 
Arabs,  w;is  the  canon  of  astrological  science  among  our  forefathers  in  the 
middle  ages. 

320:).  astrylabe.  The  astrolabe  was  the  chief  instrument  for  making  as- 
trononi'cal  calculations. 

3210.  augrym  stoones.  Augriin  signifies  arithmetic  :  it  is  not  very  certain 
what  augrim  stones  were  ;  but  they  were  probably  c  >unters  marked  with 
numerals,  and  used  for  calculating  on  a  son  of  abacus.  Counters  for  reckon 
Ing  with  are  mentioned  in  Shakespeare. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


On  schelves  couched  at  his  beddes  heed. 

His  presse  i-covered  with  a  faldyng  reed. 

And  al  above  ther  lay  a  gay  sawtrye, 

On  which  he  made  a-nightes  melodye, 

So  svvetely,  that  al  the  chambur  rang  ; 

And  Angelus  ad  mrginem  he  sang. 

And  after  that  he  sang  the  kynges  note  ; 

Ful  often  blissed  was  his  mery  throte. 

And  thus  this  sweete  clerk  his  tyme  spente, 

After  his  frendes  fyndyng  and  his  rente.  3226 

This  carpenter  had  weddid  newe  a  wyf, 

Which  t^at  he,  loved  more  than  his  lyf  ; 

Of  eyghtetcene  yeer  sche  was  of  age. 

Gelous  he  was,  and  heeld  hir  narwe  in  cage, 
\For  sche  was  wild  and  yong,  and  he  was  old, 

And  denied  himself  belik  a  cokewold, 

He  knew  nat  Catoun,  for  his  wit  was  rude, 

That  bad  man  schude  wedde  his  similitude. 
'  Men  schulde'wedde  aftir  here  astaat, 

For  eelde  and  youthe  ben  often  at  debaat.  3230 

But  syn  that  he  was  brought  into  the  snare, 

He  moste  endure,  as  othere  doon,  his  care. 
Fair  was  the  yonge  wyf,  and  therwithal 

As  eny  wesil  hir  body  gent  and  smal. 

A  seynt  sche  wered,  barred  al  of  silk  ; 

A  barm-cloth  eek  as  whit  as  morne  mylk 

Upon  hir  lendes,  ful  of  many  a  gore. 

Whit  was  hir  smok,  and  browdid  al  byfore 

And  eek  byhynde  on  hir  coler  aboute, 

Of  cole-blak  silk,  withinne  and  eek  withoute. 

The  tape's  of  hir  white  voltiper  3241 

Weren  of  the  same  sute  of  hire  coler  ; 

Hir  filet  brood  of  silk  y-set  ful  heye. 

And  certeynly  sche  hadd  a  licorous  eyghe  ; 

Ful  smal  y-pulled  weren  hir  bro\ves  two, 

And  tho  were  bent,  as  blak  as  a  slo. 

Sche  was  wel  more  blisful  on  to  see 

Than  is  the  newe"  perjonette'  tree  ; 

And  softer  than  the  wol  is  of  a  wethir. 

And  by  hir  gurdil  hyng  a  purs  of  lethir,  3250 

Tassid  with  silk,  and  perled  with  latoun. 

5216.  Anqdus  ad  rirginem.     One  of  the  hymns  of  the  Church  service.     It 
ie  mure  difficult  to  say  what  was  the  kynyes  note  in  the  next   ine. 

3227.  Catoun.    Chaucer  alludes  to  the  treatise  of  Cato  tie  <]foribus ;  but 
the  sentiment  is  not  taken  from  that  l>ook,  but  from  a  medieval  poem  of  • 
similar  chaiacter  entitled  Facetus,  which  contains  the  following  lines  :  — 
Due  tibi  prole  parein  sponsam  moresque  venustam 
Si  cum  pace  velis  vitaiu  deducere  justain. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE.  99 


In  al  this  world  to  seken  up  and  doun 

Ther  nys  no  man  so  wys,  that  couthe  thenche 

80  gay  a  popillot,  or  such  a  wenche. 

For  brighter  was  the  schynyng  of  hit  hewe, 

Than  in  the  Tour  the  noble  i-forged  newe. 

But  of  hir  song,  ft  was  as  lowde  and  yerne  L  •% 

As  eny  swalwe  chiteryng  on  a  berne. 

Therto  sche  cowde  skippe,  and  make'  game, 

As  eny  kyde  or  calf  folwyng  his  dame.  8260 

Hir  mouth  was  sweete  as  bragat  is  or  meth, 

Or  hoord  of  apples,  layd  in  hay  or  heth. 

Wynsyng  sche  was,  as  is  a  joly  colt ; 

Long  as  a  mast,  and  upright  as  a  bolt. 

A  broch  sche  bar  upon  hir  loue  coleer, 

As  brod  'as  is  the  bos  of  a  bocleer. 

Hir  set  os  were  laced  on  hir  legges  heyghe; 

Sche  was  a  primerole,  a  piggesneyghe, 

For  eny  lord  have  liggyng  in  his  bedde, 

Or  yet  for  eny  good  yeman  to  wedde.  8270 

Now  sir,  and  eft  sir,  so  bifel  the  cas, 
That  on  a  day  this  heende  Nicholas 
Fil  with  this  yonge  wyf  to  rage  and  pleye, 
Whil  that  hir  housbond  was  at  Oseneye, 
As  clerkes  ben  ful  sotil  and  ful  queynte. 
And  pryvely  he  caught  hir  by  the  queynte, 
And  seyde,  "  I-wis,  but  if  I  have  my  wille, 
For  derne  love  of  the,  lemman,  I  spille." 
And  heeld  hir  harde  by  the  haunche  boones, 
And  seyde,  "  Lemman,  love  me  al  at  ones,  3280 

Or  I  wol  dye,  as  wisly  God  me  save." 

And  sche  sprang  out  as  doth  a  colt  in  trave  : 
And  with  hir  heed  sche  wried  fast  awey, 
And  seyde,  "  I  wol  nat  kisse  the   by  my  fey  I 
Why  let  be,"  quod  sche,  "  lat  be  thou,  Nicholas. 
Or  I  wol  crye  out  harrow  and  alias  ! 
Do  wey  your  handes  for  your  curtesye  1  " 
This  Nicholas  gan  mercy  for  to  crye, 
And  spak  so  faire,  and  profred  him  so  faste, 
That  sche  hir  love  him  graunted  atte  laste,  3290 

And  swor  hir  oth  by  seynt  Thomas  of  Kent, 
That  s«ah.e  wol  be  at  his  couiaundement, 

3255.  schynyng.    The  Ml.  Harl.  reads  smylyiig,  contrary  to  the  otner  MM 
that  1  have  examined. 

3256.  noble.  The  gold  noble  of  this  period  was  a  very  beautiful  coin  :  spec- 
imens are  engraved  in  Kuding's  Annals  of  the  Coinage.      It  was  coined  in 
the  Tower  of  London,  the  place  of  the  principal  London  mint. 

3274.  Oseneye.    The  somewhat  celebrated  abbey  of  Oseney  stood  in  th« 
suburbs  of  Oxford. 


100  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Whan  that  sche  may  hir  leysir  wel  aspye. 

"  Myn  housbond  is  so  ful  of  jealousie, 

That  but  ye  way  ten  wel,  and  be  pryve, 

I  woot  right  wel  I  am  but  deed,"  quod  sche  : 

"  Ye  mosten  be  ful  derne  as  in  this  caas." 

"  Therof  ne  care  the  nought,"  quod  Nicholas  : 

"  A  clerk  hath  litherly  byset  his  while, 

But  if  he  cowde  a  carpenter  bygyle."  3300 

And  thus  they  ben  acorded  and  i-sworn 

To  wayte  a  tyrne,  as  I  have  told  biforn. 

Whan  Nicholas  had  doon  thus  every  del, 
And  thakked  hire  aboute  the  lendys  wel, 
He  kist  hir  sweet,  and  taketh  his  sawtrye, 
And  pleyeth  fast,  and  maketh  melodye. 
Than  fyl  it  thus,  that  to  the  parisch  chirche 
Cristes  owen  werkes  for  to  wirche, 
This  goode  wyf  went  on  an  haly  day  ; 
Hir  forheed  schon  as  bright  as  eny  day,  3310 

So  was  it  waisschen,  when  sche  leet  hir  werk. 

Now  ther  was  of  that  chirche  a  parisch  clerk, 
The  which  that  was  i-cleped  Absolon. 
Crulle  was  his  heer,  and  as  the  gold  it  schon, 
And  strowted  as  a  fan  right  large  and  brood  ; 
Ful  streyt  and  evene  lay  his  jolly  schood. 
His  rode  was  reed,  his  eyghen  gray  as  goos, 
With  Powles  wyndowes  corven  on  his  schoos. 
In  hosen  reed  he  went  ful  fetusly. 

I-clad  he  was  ful  smal  and  propurly,  33$0 

Al  in  a  kirtel  of  a  fyn  Avachet ; 
Schapen  with  goores  in  the  riewe  get. 
And  therupon  he  had  a  gay  surplys, 
As  whyt  as  is  the  blosme  upon  the  rys. 
A  niery  child  he  was,  so  God  me  save  j 
Wel  couthe  he  lete  blood,  and  clippe  and  schave, 

3318.  Powles  wyndowes.  Three  figures  in  the  paintings  formerly  existing 
31  the  walls  of  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  Westminster,  represented  shoes  ol 
Ul  aucer's  time,  which  were  cut  in  patterns  not  unlike  the  tracery  of  church- 
windows.  Mr.  C.  Koach  Smith  has  in  his  interesting  museum  some  beautiful 
samples  of  shoes  cut  in  this  manner,  even  more  elaborately.  It  has  been  con- 
jectured that  the  phrase  1'owles  wyndow>'S  refers  more  especially  to  the  rose- 
window  of  old  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  which  resembled  the  ornament  in  one  ol 
them.  Warton,  Hist.  E.  P.  ii.  194,  says  calcei  fenesirati  occur  hi  ancient 
Injunctions  to  the  clergy.  Chaucer,  in  the  liomaunt  of  the  Hose,  ppeaks  of 
Mirth  S-.3 

Shod,  with  grete  maistrie, 

With  shone  decopid  and  with  lace. 

It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  this  is  a  literal  translation  from  the  Frencl 
original,  ili-coiipe. 

33W.    Instead  of  this  line,  Tyrwhitt  reads.— 

Fulfairc  and  thicke  ben  vointes  set 


THE  MILLERES  TALE  101 


And  make  a  chartre  of  lond  and  acquitaunce. 
In  twenty  maners  he  coude  skip  and  daunce, 
After  the  scole  of  Oxen  ford e  tho, 

And  with  his  legges  casten  to  and  fro  ;  3334 

And  pleyen  songes  on  a  small  rubible  ; 
Ther-to  he  sang  som  tyme  a  lowcle  quynvbie. 
And  as  wel  coude  he  pleye  on  a  giterne. 
In  al  the  toun  nas  brewhous  ne  taverne 
That  he  ne  visited  with  his  solas, 
Ther  as  that  any  gaylard  tapster  was. 
But  soth  to  say  he  was  somdel  squaymous 
Of  fartyng,  and  of  speche  daungerous. 
This  Absolon,  that  joly  was  and  gay, 
Goth  with  a  senser  on  the  haly  day,  3340 

Sensing  the  wyves  of  the  parisch  fast ; 
And  many  a  lovely  look  on  hem  he  cast, 
And  namely  on  this  carpenteres  wyf ; 
To  loke  on  hire  him  thought  a  mery  lyf ; 
Sche  was  so  propre,  sweete,  and  licorous. 
I  dar  wel  sayn,  if  sche  had  ben  a  mous, 
And  he  a  cat,  he  wold  hir  hent  anooii. 
This  parisch  clerk,  this  joly  Absolon, 
Hath  in  his  herte  such  a  love  longyng, 
That  of  no  wyf  ne  took  he  noon  offryng  ;  3350 

For  curtesy,  he  seyde,  he  wolde  noon. 
The  moone  at  night  ful  deer  and  brighte  ochoon, 
And  Absolon  his  giterne  hath  i-take, 
For  paramours  he  seyde  he  wold  awake. 
And  forth  he  goth,  jolyf  and  amerous, 
Til  he  cam  to  the  carpenteres  hous, 
A  litel  after  the  cok  had  y-crowe, 
And  dressed  him  up  by  a  schot  wyndowe 
That  was  under  the  carpenteres  wal. 
He  syngeth  in  his  voys  gentil  and  smal —  3364 

"  Now,  deere  lady,  if  thi  wille  be, 
I  praye  yow  thai  ye  wol  rewe  on  me," 

Ful  wel  acordyng  to  his  gyternyng. 

This  carpenter  awook,  and  lierde  him  fvrig, 
And  spak  unto  hi^  \vyf,  and  sayde  anoon 
"  What,  Alisoun,  hem-tow  not  Absolon, 

3368.  schot  icyndoice.  I  am  rot  gs.tisfied  with  the  expla.iatio)  a  of  this  t«r» 
hitherto  given.  It  would  seem  rather  to  mean  a  window  projecting  from  the 
wall,  from  which  the  inmates  mi<;ht  shoot  upon  any  one  who  nt'.ernpted  to 
force  an  entry  into  the  house  by  the  -loor,  and  from  which,  therefore,  it  would 
be  easy  fora  person  within  to  expose  any  part  of  his  body  in  the  manner  ex- 
pressed iii  the  sequel  of  the  story. 

3361.  Tvrwhitt  observes  that  this  and  the  following  line,  comprising  A b 
tolon's  song,  appear  to  consist  of  four  short  lines,  all  rhyming  together. 


102  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  chaunteth  thus  under  cure  boure  smal  ?  " 
And  sche  answerd  hir  housbond  therwithal', 
"  Yis,  God  woot,  Johan,  I  heere  it  every  del." 

This  passeth  forth  ;  what  wil  ye  bet  than  wel  ?   3870 
Fro  day  to  day  this  joly  Absolon 
So  woweth  hire,  that  him  is  wo-bigon. 
He  waketh  al  the  night  and  al  the  day, 
To  kembe  his  lokkes  brode  and  made  him  gay. 
He  woweth  hire  by  mene  and  by  brocage, 
And  swor  he  wolde  ben  hir  owne  page. 
He  syngeth  crowyng  as  a  nightyngale  ; 
And  sent  hire  pyment,  meth,  and  spiced  ale, 
And  wafres  pypyng  hoot  out  of  the  gleede  ; 
And  for  sche  was  of  toune,  he  profred  meede.          3380 
For  som  folk  wol  be  wonne  for  richesse, 
And  som  for  strokes,  som  for  genti Hesse. 
Som  tyme,  to  schewe  his  lightnes  and  rnaistrye 
He  pleyeth  Herod  on  a  scaffold  hye. 
But  what  avayleth  him  as  in  this  caas  ? 
Sche  so  loveth  this  heende  Nicholas, 
That  Absolon  may  blowe  the  bukkes  horn  ; 
He  ne  had  for  al  his  labour  but  a  skorn. 
And  thus  sche  maketh  Absolon  hir  ape, 
And  al  his  ernest  torneth  to  a  jape.  3390 

Ful  soth  is  this  proverbe,  it  is  no  lye, 
Men  seyn  right  thus  alway,  the  ney  slye 
Maketh  the  ferre  leef  to  be  loth. 
For  though  that  Absolon  be  wood  or  wroth, 
Bycause  that  he  fer  was  from  here  sight, 
This  Nicholas  hath  stonden  in  his  light. 
Now  bere  the  wel,  thou  heende  Nicholas, 
For  Absolon  may  wayle  and  synge  alias. 

And  so  bifelle  it  on  a  Satyrday 

This  carpenter  was  gon  to  Osenay,  3400 

And  heende  Nicholas  and  Alisoun 

3367.  smal.    Tyrwhitt,  with  some  siss.,  reads  boures  wal. 

3378.  crowyng.    Some  MSS.,  with  Tyrwhitt,  have  brokking. 

3378.  pyment,  Piment  was  a  kind"  of  spiced  wine.  Tyrwhitt  •  reading, 
finnes,  is  certainly  much  inferior  to  the  one  in  the  text. 

3384.  pleyeth  Herod.  Herod  was  a  favorite  part  in  the  religious  plays,  aid 
was  perhaps  an  object  of  competition  among  the  pei  formers,  and  apart  in 
which  the  actor  endeavored  to  shew  himself  oil  wiih  advantage.  Every 
reader  knows  Shakespeare's  phrase  of  outheroding  Herod. 

3387.  blowe  the  bukkes  horn.  I  presume  this  was  a  service  that  general Ij 
went  unrewarded. 

3391.  this  proverbe.  The  same  proverb  is  found  in  Gower  (Conf  Amnt. 
lib.  iii.  f .  68)  - 

An  olde  eawe  is  :  who  that  is  slygh 
In  place  wher  he  may  be  nyghe, 
He  maketh  the  ferre"  leef  loth. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE.  108 


Acordid  ben  to  this  conclusioun, 

That  Nicholas  schal  schapen  liem  a  wyle 

This  sely  jelous  housbond  to  begyle  ; 

And  if  so  were  this  game  wente  aright, 

Sche  schulde  slepe  in  his  arm  al  night, 

For  this  was  hire  desir  and  his  also. 

And  right  anoon,  withouten  wordes  mo, 

This  Nicholas  no  lenger  wold  he  tarye, 

But  doth  ful  softe  into  his  chambur  carye  3410 

Bothe  mete  and  drynke  for  a  day  or  tweye. 

And  to  hir  housbond  bad  hir  for  to  seye, 

If  that  he  axed  after  Nicholas, 

Sche  schulde  seye,  sche  wiste  nat  wher  he  was  ; 

Of  al  that  day  sche  saw  him  nat  wilii  eye  ; 

Sche  trowed  he  were  falle  in  som  maladye, 

For  no  cry  that  hir  mayden  cowde  him  calle 

He  nolde  answere,  for  nought  that  may  bifalle. 

Thus  passeth  forth  al  that  ilke  Satyrday, 
That  Nicholas  stille  in  his  chain bre  lay,  3420 

And  eet,  and  drank,  and  dede  what  him  leste 
Til  Soneday  the  sorine  was  gori  to  reste. 

This  sely  carpenter  hath  gret  mervaile 
Of  Nicholas,  or  what  thing  may  him  ayle, 
And  seyde,  "  I  am  adrad,  by  seynt  Thomas! 
It  storideth  nat  aright  with  Nicholas ; 
God  schilde  that  he  deyde  sodeinly. 
This  world  is  now  ful  tykel  sikerly  ; 
I  saugh  to-day  a  corps  y-born  to  chirche, 
That  now  on  Monday  last  I  saugh  him  wirche.       3430 
Go  up,"  quod  he  unto  his  knave,   "  anoon  ; 
Clepe  at  his  dore,  or  knokke  with  a  stoon  ; 
Loke  how  it  is,  and  telle  me  boldely." 
This  knave  goth  him  up  ful  sturdily, 
And  at  the  chambir  dore  whil  ne  stood, 
lie  cryed  and  knokked  as  that  he  were  wood  ; 
"  What  how  ?  what  do  ye,  mayster  Nicholay  ? 
How  may  ye  slepen  al  this  longe  day  ?  " 
But  al  for  nought,  he  herde  nat  o  word. 
An  hole  he  fond  right  lowe  upon  the  boord,  J 140 

Ther  as  the  cat  was  wont  in  for  to  creepe, 
And  at  that  hole  he  loked  in  ful  deepe, 
And  atte  laste  he  hadde  of  him  a  sight. 
This  Nicholas  sat  ever  gapyng  upright, 
As  he  had  loked  on  the  newe  moone. 
Adoun  he  goth,  and  tolde  his  mayster  soone, 
In  what  aray  he  sawn,  this  ilke  man. 
This  carpenter  to  blessen  him  bygau, 


104  THE  CANTERBURY  TALFS. 

And  seyde,  "  Now  help  us,  seynte  Frideswyde  ! 

A  man  woot  litel  what  him  schal  betyde.  34oO 

This  man  is  falle  with  his  astronomye 

In  som  woodnesse,  or  in  some  agonye. 

I  thought  ay  wel  how  that  it  schulde  be. 

Men  schulde  nought  knowe.of  Goddes  pryvyte. 

Ye,  blessed  be  alwey  a  lewed  man, 

That  nat  but  oonly  his  bileeve  can. 

So  ferde  another  clerk  with  astronomye  ; 

He  walked  in  the  feeldes  for  to  prye 

Upon  the  sterres,  what  ther  schulde  bifalle, 

Til  he  was  in  a  marie  pit  i-falle.  3460 

He  saugh  nat  that.     But  yet,  by  seint  Thomas  1 

Me  reweth  sore  for  heende  Nicholas  ; 

He  schal  be  ratyd  of  his  studyying, 

If  that  I  may,  by  Jhesu  heven  kyng ! 

Gete  me  a  staf,  that  I  may  underspore, 

Whil  that  thou,  Robyn,  hevest  up  the  dore . 

He  schal  out  of  his  studyyng,  as  I  gesse." 

And  to  the  chambir  dore  he  gan  him  dresse. 

His  knave  was  a  strong  karlfor  the  noones, 

And  by  the  hasp  he  haf  it  up  at  oones  ;  3470 

And  in  the  floor  the  dore  fil  doun  anoon. 

This  Nicholas  sat  stille  as  eny  stoon, 

And  ever  he  gapyd  up-ward  to  the  eyr. 

This  carpenter  wende  he  were  in  despeir, 

And  hent  him  by  the  shuldres  mightily, 

And  schook  him  harde,  and  cryed  spitously, 

"  What,  Nicholas  ?  what  how,  man  ?  loke  adoun  ; 

Awake,  and  thynk  on  Cristes  passioun. 

I  crowche  the  from  elves  and  from  wightes. 

Therwith  the  night-spel  seyde  he  anon  rightes,        349 1 

On  the  foure  halves  of  the  hous  aboute, 

And  on  the  threisshfold  of  the  dore  withoute. 

Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  and  seynte  Benedight, 

Blesse  this  hous  from  every  wikkede  wight, 

Fro  nyghtes  verray,  the  white  Pater-noster ; 

Wher  wonestow  now,  seynte  Petres  soster  ?  ' 

And  atte  laste,  heende  Nicholas 

Gan  for  to  syke  sore,  and  seyde,   "  Alias  ! 

Schal  al  the  world  be  lost  eftsones  now  ?  " 

3449.  seynte  Frideswyde.  This  eaint  was  appropriately  invoked  by  the 
carpenter,  as  she  was  the  patron  of  a  rich  monastic  house  at  Oxford. 

3460.  in  a  marie  pit.  Thi.<  tale,  told  of  Thales  by  Plato,  w  as  very  popular  in 
the  middle  ages,  and  is  found  under  different  forms  in  a  variety  of  collections 
of  stories. 

3485.  verray.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  MSB.  I  have  consulted.  Trywhitt 
reads  mare,  which  is  pernaps  right. 


TEE  MILLERES  TALE.  10$ 

This  carpenter  answerde,  "  What  seystow  ?  3490 

What?  thenk  on  God,  as  we  doon,  men  that  swinke." 

This  Nicholas  answerde,  "  Fette  me  drynke  ; 

And  after  wol  I  speke  in  pryvyte 

Of  certeyn  thing  that  toucheth  the  and  me  ; 

I  wol  telle  it  non  other  man  certayn." 

This  carpenter  goth  forth,  and  comtli  agayn, 

And  brought  of  mighty  ale  a  large  quart. 

Whan  ech  of  hem  y-dronken  had  his*part, 

This  Nicholas  his  dore  gan  to  schitte, 

And  dede  this  carpenter  doun  by  him  sitte,  3500 

And  seide,  "  Johan,  myn  host  ful  leve  and  dcere, 

Thou  schalt  upon  thy  trouthe  swere  me  heere, 

That  tjo  no  wight  thou  schalt  this  counsel  wreye  ; 

For  it  is  Cristes  counsel  that  I  seye, 

Ana  if  thou  telle  it  man,  thou  art  forlore  ; 

For  this  vengaunce  thou  schalt  han  therfore, 

That  if  thou  wreye  me,  thou  schalt  be  wood." 

"  Nay,  Crist  forbede  it  for  his  holy  blood  !  " 

Quod  tho  this  sely  man,  "  I  am  no  labbe, 

Though  I  it  say,  I  am  nought  leef  to  gabbe.  3510 

Say  what  thou  wolt,  I  schal  it  never  telle 

To  child  ne  wyf,  by  him  that  harwed  helle !  " 

"  Now,  Johan,"  quod  Nicholas,  "  I  wol  not  lye  : 
I  have  i-founde  in  myn  astrologye, 
As  I  have  loked  in  the  moorie  bright, 
That  now  on  Monday  next,  at  quarter  night, 
Schal  falle  a  reyn,  and  tiiat  so  wilde  and  wood, 
That  half  so  gret  was  never  Noes  flood. 
This  word,"  he  seyde,  "  more  than  an  hour 
Schal  ben  i-dreynt,  so  hidous  is  the  schour  :  3520 

Thus  schal  mankynde  drench,  and  leese  his  lyf." 
This  carpenter  answered,   "  Alias,  my  wyf! 
And  schal  sche  drenche  ?  alias,  myn  Alisoun  !  " 
For  sorwe  of  this  he  fel  almost  adoun, 
And  seyde,  "  Is  ther  no  remedy  in  this  caas  ? " 
'Why  yis,  for  Gode,"  quod  heende  Nicholas  ; 
"  If  thou  wolt  werken  aftir  lore  and  reed  ; 
Thou  maist  nought  worke  after  thin  owen  heed, 
For  thus  seith  Salomon,  that  was  ful  trewe, 
Werke  by  counseil,  and  thou  schalt  nat  rewe.         3530 
And  if  thou  worken  wolt  by  good  counsail, 
I  undertake,  withouten  mast  and  sail, 

JM2.  him  that  harwed  helle.  Our  Saviour.  The  harrowing  of  hell  wa*  A 
eery  popular  legend  among  our  forefathers,  and  found  a  place  in  most  of  the 
eo.iectioiiB  of  mysteries,  from  which  representations  the  lower  orders  obtaineo 
their  notions  of  Scripture  history  and  thrology. 


106  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Yet  schal  I  saven  hir,  and  the,  and  me. 

Hastow  nat  herd  how  saved  was  Noe, 

Whan  that  our  Lord  had  warned  him  biforn> 

That  al  the  world  with  watir  schulde  be  lorn  ? ' 

"  Yis,"  quod  this  carpenter,  "ful  yore  ago." 

"  Hastow  nought  herd,"  quod  Nicholas,  "  also 

The  sorwe  of  Noe  with  his  felaschipe, 

That  he  hadde  or  he  gat  his  wyf  to  schipe  ?  u>  *\ 

Him  hadde  wel  lever,  I  dar  wel  undertake, 

At  thilke  tyme,  than  alle  his  wetheres  blake 

That  sche  hadde  had  a  schip  hirself  allone. 

And  therfore  wostow  what  is  best  to  doone  i 

This  axeth  hast,  and  of  an  hasty  thing 

Men  may  nought  preche  or  make  taryyng. 

Anon  go  gete  us  fast  into  this  in 

A  knedyng  trowh  or  elles  a  kemelyn, 

For  ech  of  us  ;  but  loke  that  they  be  larg( 

In  which  that  we  may  rowe  as  in  a  barge,  356* 

And  have  therin  vitaille  suffisant 

But  for  o  day  ;  fy  on  the  remenant ; 

The  water  schal  aslake  and  gon  away 

Aboute  prime  uppon  the  nexte  day. 

But  Robyn  may  not  wite  of  this,  thy  kn^-re, 

Ne  ek  thy  mayde  Gille  I  may  riot  save ; 

Aske  nought,  why  ;  for  though  thou  aske  jie, 

I  wol  nat  tellen  Goddes  pryvete. 

Sufflceth  the,  but  if  that  thy  witt  madde: 

To  have  as  gret  a  grace  as  Noe  hadde.  3560 

Thy  wyf  schal  I  wel  saven  out  of  doute. 

Go  now  thy  wey,  and  speed  the  heer  aboate ; 

Arid  whan  thou  hast  for  hir,  and  the,  and  me, 

I-goten  us  this  knedyng  tubbes  thre, 

Than  schalt  thou  hange  hem  in  the  roof  ful  hie, 

That  no  man  of  cure  purveaunce  aspye  ; 

And  whan  thou  thus  hast  doon  as  I  have  seyd, 

And  hast  cure  vitaille  faire  in  hem  y-leyd, 

And  eek  an  ax  to  smyte  the  corde  a-two 

Whan  that  the  water  cometh,  that  we  may  goo,     3570 

And  broke  an  hole  an  hye  upon  the  gable 

Into  the  gardyn-ward  over  the  stable, 

That  we  may  frely  passen  forth  oure  way, 

Whan  that  the  grete  schour  is  gon  away  ; 

That  schaltow  swymme  as  niery,  I  undertake. 

3540.  his  wyf.  According  to  a  medieval  legend,  Noah's  wife  waa  .IP will 
lug  to  go  into  the  ark  ;  and  the  quarrel  between  her  and  her  husband  make* 
a  prominent  part  in  the  play  of  Noah'a  Flood,  ami  L»  the  Chester  and  Towne 
ley  MyBtorieu. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE.  101 


As  doth  the  white  doke  aftir  hir  drake  ; 

Than  wol  I  clepe,  How  Alisoun,  how  Jon, 

Beoth  inerye,  for  the  flood  passetb  anon. 

And  thou  wolt  seye,  Heyl,  inaister  Nicholay, 

Good  morn,  I  see  the  wel,  for  it  is  day.  8580 

And  than  schnl  we  be  lordes  al  oure  lyf 

Of  al  the  world,  as  Noe  and  his  wyf. 

But  of  oo  thing  I  warne  the  ful  right, 

Be  wel  avysed  of  that  ilke  nyght, 

That  we  ben  entred  into  schippes  boord, 

That  non  of  us  ne  speke  not  a  word, 

Ne  clepe  ne  crye,  but  be  in  his  preyere, 

For  it  is  Goddes  owne  heste  deere. 

Thy  wyf  and  thou  most  hangen  fer  a-twynne, 

For  that  bitwise  you  schal  be  no  synne,  3590 

No  more  in  lokyng  than  ther  schal  in  dede. 

This  ordynaurice  is  seyd  ;  so  God  me  speede. 

To  morwe  at  night,  whan  men  ben  aslepe, 

Into  our  knedyng  tubbes  wol  we  crepe, 

And  sitte  ther,  abydyng  Goddes  grace. 

Go  now  thy  way,  I  have  no  lenger  space 

To  make  of  this  no  lenger  sermonyng ; 

Men  seyn  thus,  send  the  wyse,  and  sey  no  thing  ; 

Thou  art  so  wys,  it  needeth  nat  the  teche. 

Go,  save  oure  lyf,  and  that  I  the  byseche."  8600 

This  seely  carpenter  goth  forth  his  way, 
Ful  ofte  he  seyd,  "  Alias,  and  weylaway  I  " 
And  to  his  wyf  he  told  his  pryvete, 
And  sche  was  war,  arid  knew  it  bet  than  he, 
What  al  this  queinte  cast  was  for  to  seye. 
But  natheles  sche  ferd  as  sche  schuld  deye, 
And  seyde,  "  Alias  !  go  forth  thy  way  anoon, 
Help  us  to  skape,  or  we  be  ded  echon. 
I  am  thy  yerray  trewe  wedded  wyf; 
Go,  deere  spouse,  and  help  to  save  oure  iyf."          3810 
Lo,  which  a  gret  thing  is  afl'eccioun  ! 
A  man  may  dye  for  ymaginacioun, 
So  deepe  may  impressioun  be  take. 
This  seely  carpenter  bygynneth  quake  ; 
Him  thenketh  verrayly  that  he  may  se 
Noes  Hood  come  walking  as  the  see 
To  drenchen  Alisoun,  his  hony  deere. 
He  weepeth,  wayleth,  maketh  sory  cheere ; 
He  siketh,  with  ful  many  a  sory  swough, 
And  goth,  and  geteth  him  a  knedyng  trough,        S68C 

KIT.  Jon.    See,  further  on,  the  note  on  1.  4011. 


108  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  after  that  a  tubbe,  and  a  kymelyn, 

And  pryvelyhe  sent  hem  to  his  in, 

And  heng  hem  in  the  roof  in  pryvete. 

His  owne  hond  than  made  laddres  thre, 

To  clymben  by  the  ronges  and  the  stalkes 

Unto  the  tubbes  hangyng  in  the  balkes  ; 

And  hem  vitayled,  bothe  trough  and  tubbe, 

With  breed  and  cheese,  with  good  ale  in  a  jubbe, 

Suffisyng  right  ynough  as  for  a  day. 

But  or  that  he  had  maad  al  this  array,  8GSO 

He  sent  his  knave  and  eek  his  wenche  also 

Upon  his  neede  to  Londone  for  to  go. 

And  on  the  Monday,  whan  it  drew  to  nyght, 

He  schette  his  dore,  withouten  candel  light, 

And  dressed  al  this  thing  as  it  schuld  be. 

And  schortly  up  they  clumben  alle  thre. 

They  seten  stille  wel  a  forlong  way  : 

"Now,  Paternoster,  clum,"  quod  Nicholay, 

And  "clum,"  quod  Jon,  and  "  clum,"  quod  Alisoun. 

This  carpenter  seyd  his  devocioun,  3640 

And  stille  he  sitt,  and  byddeth  his  prayere, 

Ay  waytyng  on  the  reyn,  if  he  it  heere. 

The  deede  sleep,  for  verray  busynesse, 

Fil  on  this  carpenter,  right  as  I  gesse, 

Abowten  oourfew  tyme,  or  litel  more. 

For  travail  of  his  goost  he  groneth  sore, 

And  eft  he  routeth,  for  his  heed  myslay. 

Doun  of  the  laddir  stalketh  Nicholay, 

And  Alisoun  ful  softe  adouri  hir  spedde. 

Withouten  wordes  mo  they  goon  to  bedde ;  3650 

Ther  as  the  carpenter  was  wont  to  lye, 

Ther  was  the  revel  and  the  melodye. 

And  thus  lith  Alisoun  and  Nicholas, 

In  busynesse  of  myrthe  and  of  solas, 

Til  that  the  belles  of  laudes  gan  to  rynge, 

And  freres  in  the  chauncel  gan  to  synge. 

This  parissch  clerk,  this  amerous  Absolon, 
That  is  for  love  so  harde  and  woo  bygon, 
Upon  the  Monday  was  at  Oseriay 

With  company,  him  to  desporte  and  play  ;  3660 

And  axed  upon  caas  a  cloysterer 
Ful  pryvely  after  the  carpenter  ; 
And  he  drough  him  apart  out  of  the  chirche, 
And  sayde,  "  Nay,  I  say  him  nat  here  wirche 

3€55.  btlles  of  Laudes.  The  service  of  Laudes  or  Matins  be^an  at  thret 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  bell  was  naturally  rung  a  little  before,  and  par- 
haps  began  at  half-pa.st  two. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE.  109 


8yn  Satirday  ;  I  trow  that  he  be  went 

For  tyinber,  ther  our  abbot  hath  him  sent. 

For  he  is  wont  for  tyinber  for  to  goo, 

And  dwellen  at  the  Graunge  a  day  or  tuo. 

Or  elles  he  is  at  his  hous  certayn. 

Wher  that  he  be,  I  can  nat  sothly  Bayn.  &670 

This  Absolon  ful  joly  was  and  light, 
And  thoughte,  "Now  is  tynie  wake  al  night, 
For  sikerly  1  sawh  him  nought  styryng 
Aboute  his  dore,  syn  day  bigan  to  spryng. 
So  mote  I  thryve,  I  schal  at  cokkes  crowe 
Ful  pryvely  go  knokke  at  his  wyndowe, 
That  slant  ful  loAve  upon  his  bowres  wal  ; 
To  Alisoun  than  wol  I  tellen  al 
My  love-longyng  ;  for  yet  I  schal  not  mysse 
That  atte  leste  wey  I  schal  hir  kisse.  3680 

Soin  maner  comfort  schal  I  have,  parfay  I 
My  mouth  hath  icched  al  this  longe  day  ; 
That  is  a  signe  of  kissyng  atte  leste. 
Al  nyght  I  iiiette  eek  I  was  at  a  feste. 
Therfore  I  wol  go  slepe  an  hour  or  tweye, 
And  al  the  night  than  wol  I  wake  and  pleye." 
Whan  that  the  firste  cok  hath  crowe,  anoon 
Up  ryst  this  jolyf  lover  Absolon, 
And  him  arrayeth  gay,  at  poynt  devys. 
But  first  he  cheweth  greyn  and  lycoris,  3<WC 

To  smellen  swete,  or  he  hadde  kempt  his  heore. 
Under  his  tunge  a  trewe  love  he  beere, 
For  therby  wende  he  to  be  gracious. 
He  rometh  to  the  carpenteres  hous, 
And  stille  he  stant  under  the  schot  wyndowe  ; 
Unto  his  brest  it  raught,  it  was  so  lowe  ; 
And  softe  he  cowhith  with  a  semysoun  : 
"  What  do  ye,  honycomb,  swete  Alisoun  ? 
My  fayre  bryd,  my  swete  cynamome, 
Awake,  lemman  myn,  and  speketh  to  me.  8700 

Ful  litel  thynke  ye  upon  my  wo, 
That  for  youre  love  I  swelte  ther  I  go. 
No  wonder  is  if  that  I  swelte  arid  swete, 
I  morne  as  doth  a  lamb  after  the  tete. 
I-wis,  lemman,  I  have  such  love-lougyng, 
That  like  a  turtil  trewe  is  my  moornyng. 

3668.  the  Graunge.  The  abbeys  Lad  generally  large  granges  attached  U 
their  more  considerable  estates,  erected  with  so  much  strength  that  many  ol 
them  have  outlived  the  monasteries)  themselves.  The  distance  of  some  of  tli« 
estates  from  the  abbey  would  naturally  oblige  those  who  went  on  butsineaa  tt 
Btay  a  day  or  two  away. 

3t>90.  yreyn.    Uraius  of  I'aris,  or  Paradise  ;  a  favorite  spice  at  lUis  peno-1 


110  THL  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

I  may  not  ete  more  than  a  inayde." 

"  Go  fro  the  wyndow,  jakke  fool,"  sche  sayde  ; 
"  As  help  me  God,  it  wol  not  be,  compame. 
I  love  another,  and  elles  were  I  to  blame,  3710 

Wei  bet  than  the,  by  Jhesu,  Absolon. 
Go  forth  thy  wey,  or  I  wol  cast  a  stoon  ; 
And  letc  me  slepe,  a  twenty  devel  way  I  " 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  Absolon,  "  and  weylaway  I 
That  trewe  love  was  ever  so  ylle  bysett ; 
Thanne  kisseth  me,  syn  it  may  be  no  bett, 
For  Jesus  love,  and  for  the  love  of  me." 
"  Wilt  thou  than  go  thy  wey  therwith?  "  quod  sche. 
"  ife,  certes,  lemrnan,"  quod  this  Absolon. 
"  Than  mak  the  redy,"  quod  sche,   "  I  come  anon." 
This  Absolon  doun  tette  him  on  his  knees,  372) 

And  seide,  "  I  am  a  lord  at  alia  degrees  ; 
For  after  this  I  hope  ther  cometh  more  ; 
Lemrnan,  thy  graco,  and,  swete  bryd,  thyn  ore." 
The  wyndow  sche  undycl   and  that  in  hast ; 
"  Have  doon,"  quod  sche,  "  com  of,  and  speed  che  fast, 
Lest  that  our  neygheboures  the  aspye." 
This  Absolon  gan  wipe  his  mouth  ful  drye. 
Derk  was  the  night  as  picche  or  as  a  cole, 
Out  atte  wyndow  putte  sche  hir  hole  :  3730 

And  Absolon  him  fel  no  bet  ne  wers, 
But  with  his  mouth  he  kist  hir  naked  ers 
Ful  savorly.     Whan  he  was  war  of  this, 
Abak  he  sterte,  arid  thought  it  Avas  amys, 
For  wel  he  wist  a  womman  hath  no  berd. 
He  felt  a  thing  al  rough  and  long  i-herd, 
And  seyde,   "  Fy,  alias  !  what  have  I  do  ?  " 
"  Te-hee  I  "  quod  sche,  and  clapt  the  wyndow  to ; 
And  Absolon  goth  forth  a  sory  paas. 
''  A  berd,  a  berd  1  "  quod  heende  Nicholas  ;  3740 

"  By  Goddes  corps,  this  game  goth  fair  and  wel." 
This  seely  Absolon  herd  every  del, 
And  on  his  lippe  he  gan  for  angir  byte ; 
And  to  himself  he  seyde,  "  I  schal  the  quyte." 

Who  rubbith  now,  who  froteth  now  his  lippes 
With  dust,   with   sand,  with  straw,  with  cloth,  with 

chippes, 

But  Absolon  ?  that  seith  ful  ofte,  "Alias, 
My  soule  bytake  1  unto  Sathanas  ! 
But  me  were  lever  than  alle  this  toun,"  quod  he, 
"Of  this  dispit  awroken  for  to  be.  3750 

Alias  !  "  quod  he,   "  alias  !  I  nadde  bleyntl  " 
llis  hoote  love  was  cold,  and  al  i-queint. 


THE  MILLERES  TALE. 


For  fro  that  tyrne  that  he  had  kist  her  era, 
Of  paramours  ne  sette  he  nat  a  kers, 
For  he  was  helyd  of  his  maledye  ; 
Ful  ofte  paramours  he  gan  delTye, 
And  wept  as  doth  a  child  that  is  i-bete. 
A  softe  paas  went  he  over  the  strete 
Unto  a  siuyth,  men  clepith  daun  Gerveys, 
That  in  his  forge  smythed  plowh-harneys  ;  3760 

He  scharpeth  schar  and  cultre  bysily. 
This  Absolon  knokketh  al  esily, 
And  seyde,  "  Undo,  Gerveys,  and  that  anoon." 
"  What,  who  art  thou  ?  "  "  It  am  I  Absolon." 
"  What  ?  Absolon,  what  ?  Cristes  swete  tree  I 
Why  ryse  ye  so  rethe?  benedicite, 
What  eyleth  you  ?  some  gay  gurl,  God  it  woot, 
Hath  brought  you  thus  upon  the  verytrot ; 
By  seinte  Noet!  ye  wot  wel  what  I  mene." 
This  Absolon  ne  roughte  nat  a  bene  3770 

Of  al  his  pleye,  no  word  agayn  he  gaf ; 
For  he  hadde  more  tow  on  his  distaf 
Than  Gerveys  knew,  and  seyde, — "  Freend  so  deere, 
That  hote  cultre  in  the  chymney  heere 
As  lene  it  me,  I  have  therwith  to  doone  ; 
I  wol  it  bring  agayn  to  the  ful  soone." 
Gerveys  answerde,  "  Certes,  were  it  gold, 
Or  in  a  poke  nobles  al  untold, 
Ye  schul  him  have,  as  I  am  trewe  smyth. 
Ey,  Cristes  fote  !  what  wil  ye  do  therwith  ?  "          3780 
"  Therof,"  quod  Absolon,  "  be  as  be  may; 
I  schal  wel  telle  it  the  to  morwe  day  ;  " 
And  caughte  the  cultre  by  the  colde  stele, 
Ful  soft  out  at  the  dore  he  gan  it  stel-e, 
And  wente  unto  the  carpenteres  wal. 
lie  cowheth  first,  and  kuokketh  therwithal 
Upon  the  wyndow,  right  as  he  dede  er. 
This  Alisoun  answerde,  "  Who  isther 
That  knokkest  so  ?  I  warant  it  a  theef."  3781 

'  Why  nay,"  quod  he,  "  God  woot,  my  sweete  leef, 
1  am  thyn  Absolon,  o  my  derlyng. 
Of  gold,"  quod  he,   "  I  have  the  brought  a  ryng] 

3767.  ga\i  gurl.  This  appears  to  have  b«en  a  common  phrase  for  a  young 
woman  of  light  manners.  Jn  the  time  of  lioury  VIII.  the  lady  Anne  Berk- 
oley.  duwatisiied  with  the  conduct  of  her  daugbtei-in-law,  lady  Catherine 
Howard,  is  reported  to  have  said  of  her  :  "  By  God's,  blessed  sacran  ent,  thin 
gay  ijirle  will  beggar  my  son  Henry  1  " 

3769.  seinte  Aoet.     St.  Neot- 

3772.  low  on  his  tlislnj'-  This*  seems  to  havu  Linen  a  common  proverb  of  th« 
time.  Tyruhiu  quotett  i'rom  i'loii-sari,  1.  aura  eu  bref  temps  au;re 
on  it  queiiUle." 


112  THE  "ANTERPUhY  TJLES. 

My  mooder  gaf  it  me,  so  God  me  save  I 
Ful  fyn  it  is,  and  therto  wel  i-grave  ; 
This  wol  I  give  the,  if  thou  me  kisse.'1 
This  Nicholas  was  rise  for  to  pysse, 
And  thought  he  wold  amenden  al  the  jape, 
He  schulde  kisse  his  ers  or  that  he  skape. 
And  up  the  wyndow  dyde  he  hastily, 
And  out  his  ers  putteth  he  pry  vely  3800 

Over  the  buttok,  to  the  haunch e  bon. 
And  therwith  spak  this  clerk,  this  Absolon, 
"  Spek,  sweete  bryd,  I  wot  nat  wher  thou  art." 
This  Nicholas  anon  let  flee  a  fart, 
As  gret  as  it  had  ben  a  thundir  dent, 
And  with  that  strook  he  was  almost  i-blent  j 
And  he  was  redy  with  his  yren  hoot, 
And  Nicholas  amid  the  ers  he  smoot. 
Of  goth  the  skyn  an  hande-brede  aboute, 
The  hoote  cultre  brente  so  his  toute  ;  3810 

And  for  the  smert  he  wende  for  to  dye  ; 
As  he  were  wood,  anon  he  gan  to  crye, 
"  Help,  watir,  watir,  help,  for  Goddes  herte  !  " 
This  carpenter  out  of  his  slumber  sterte, 
And  herd  on  crye  watir,  as  he  wer  wood, 
And  thought,  "  Alias,  now  cometh  Noes  flood  !  " 
He  sit  him  up  withoute  wordes  mo, 
And  with  his  ax  he  smot  the  corde  a-two ; 
And  doun  he  goth  ;  he  fond  nowthir  to  selle 
No  breed  ne  ale,  til  he  com  to  the  selle  3880 

Upon  the  floor,  and  ther  aswoun  he  lay. 
Up  styrt  hir  Alisoun,  and  Nicholay, 
And  cryden,  "  out  and  harrow  !  "  in  the  strete 
The  neyghebours  bothe  smal  and  grete 
In  ronnen,  for  to  gauren  on  this  man, 
That  yet  aswowne  lay,  bothe  pale  and  wan  . 
For  with  the  fal  he  brosten  had  his  arm. 
But  stond  he  muste  to  his  owne  harm, 
For  whan  he  spak,  he  was  anon  born  doun 
With  heeride  Nicholas  and  Alisoun.  3Q3Q 

They  toHen  every  man  that  he  was  wood  ; 
He  was  agttst  and  feerd  of  Noes  flood 
Thurgh  fantasie,  that  of  his  vanite 
He  ha^ie  i-bought  him  knedyng  tubbes  thre, 
And  hadde  hem  hanged  in  the  roof  above  \ 
And  that  he  preyed  hem  for  Goddes  love 
M19.  to  telle.    So  in  the  fabliau  of  Aloul,  in  Barbazan,  1.  591. 

Qu'aiuc  tant  come  il  mist  a  desnendre 

No  trova  point  dt)  [iain  a  vciiUro. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  REEVE.       US 

To  sitten  in  trie  roof  par  campaignye. 
The  folk  gan  lawhen  at  his  fantasye  ; 
Into  the  roof  they  kyken,  and  they  gape, 
And  tome  al  his  harm  into  a  jape.  384C 

For  whatsoever  the  carpenter  answcrde, 
It  was  for  nought,  no  man  his  resoun  herde, 
With  othis  greet  lie  was  so  sworn  adoun, 
That  he  was  holden  wood  in  al  the  toun. 
For  every  clerk  anon  right  heeld  with  othir  ; 
They  seyde,  "The  man  was  wood,  my  leeve  brother  ;' 
And'  every  man  gan  lawhen  at  his  stryf 
Thus  swy ved  was  the  carpenteres  wyf 
For  al  his  kepyng  and  his  gelousye  ; 
And  Absolon  hath  kist  hir  nethir  ye  ;  3950 

And  Nicholas  is  skaldid  in  his  towte. 
This  tale  is  doon,  and  God  save  al  the  route. 

THE  TROLOGE  OF  THE  REEVE. 

WHAN  folk  hadde  lawhen  of  this  nyce  caas 
Of  Absolon  and  heende  Nicholas, 
Dyverse  folk  dyversely  they  seyde, 
But  for  the  moste  part  they  lowh  and  pleyde  \ 
Ne  at  this  tale  I  sawh  no  man  him  greve, 
But  it  were  oonly  Osewald  the  Reeve. 
Bycause  he  was  of  carpentrye  craft, 
A.  litel  ire  in  his  herte  is  laft ;  3860 

He  gan  to  grucche  and  blamed  it  a  lite. 
'  So  theek,"  quod  he,  "  ful  wel  coude  I  the  quyte 
With  bleryng  of  a  prowd  mylleres  ye, 
If  that  me  luste  speke  of  ribaudye. 
But  yk  am  old  ;  me  list  not  pley  for  age  ; 
Gras  tyme  is  doon.  my  foddir  is  now  forage. 
My  whyte  top  writeth  myn  olde  yeeres  ; 
Myn  hert  is  al  so  moulyd  as  myn  lieeres  ; 
But  yit  I  fare  as  doth  an  open-ers  ; 

That  ilke  fruyt  is  ever  lengerthe  wers,  3STC 

Til  it  be  rote  in  mullok  or  in  stree. 
We  olde  men,  I  drede,  so  fare  we, 
Til  we  be  roten,  can  we  nut  be  rype  ; 
We  hoppen  alway,  whil  the  world  wol  pype  j 
For  in  oure  wil  ther  stiketh  ever  a  nayl. 
To  have  an  hoor  heed  and  a  greene  tayl. 
As  hath  a  leek  ;  for  though  oure  might  be  doon, 
Oure  wil  desireth  folye  ever  in  oon  ; 
For  whan  we  may  nat  do,  than  wol  we  speke, 
Yet  in  oure  uisshen  old  is  fyr  i-reke.  3880 

8 


114  THE  CANTERBURY  TAL&S. 

Foure  gledys  have  we,  which  I  schal  devy»e, 

Avanting,  lyyng,  angur,  coveytise. 

Tliis  fonre  sparkys  longen  unto  eelde. 

Oure  olde  lynies  mowen  be  unweelde, 

But  wil  ne  schal  nat  fayle  us,  that  issoth. 

And  yet  I  have  ahvey  a  coltes  toth, 

As  many  a  yeer  as  it  is  passed  henne, 

Syn  that  my  tappe  of  lyf  bygan  to  renne. 

For  sikirlik,  whan  I  was  born,  anon 

Deth  drough  the  tappe  of  lyf,  and  leet  it  goon  ;      3890 

And  now  so  longe  hath  the  tappe  i-ronne, 

Til  that  almost  al  empty  is  the  tonne. 

The  streern  of  lyf  now  droppeth  on  the  chymbe. 

The  sely  tonge  may  wel  rynge  and  chimbe 

Of  wrecchednes,  that  passed  is  ful  yoore  : 

With  olde  folk,  sauf  dotage,  is  no  more." 

Whan  that  oure  Host  had  herd  this  sermonyng, 
He  gan  to  speke  as  lordly  as  a  kyng, 
And  seyde,  "  What  amounteth  al  this  wit? 
What  ?  schul  we  speke  al  day  of  holy  wryt?  3900 

The  devyl  made  a  reve  for  to  preche, 
Or  of  a  sowter  a  schipman  or  a  leche. 
Sey  forth  thi  tale,  and  tarye  nat  the  tyme  : 
Lo  heer  is  Depford,  and  it  is  passed  prime  ; 
Lo  Grenewich,  ther  many  a  schrewe  is  inne  ', 
It  were  al  tyme  thi  tale  to  bygynne." 

"  Now,  sires,"  quod  this  Osewold  the  Reeve, 
"  I  pray  vow  alle,  that  noon  of  you  him  greeve, 
Though  I  answere,  and  somwhat  sette  his  howve, 
For  leeful  is  with  force  force  to  schowve.  3910 

3902.  Ex  sutore  nauclerus  and  ex  sutore  medicus  were  both  popular  proverbs, 
and  are  found  in  medieval  Latin  writers. 

3904.  passed  prime.  TyrwLitt  reads  half-way  prime,  and  observes.  "  In  the 
discourse,  &c.,  §  xiv.,  I  have  supposed  that  this  means  half  past  prime,  about 
half  an  hour  after  seven  A.M.,  the  half  way  between  Prime  and  Terce.  In 
the  fictitious  Modus  teuendiparliamentum,  a  book  not  much  older  than  Cjau- 
cer,  hora  media  primes  seems  to  be  used  in  the  same  sense,  c.  tie  diebus  et 
horis  parliamenti,  Ms.  Cotton.  Nero.  D.  vi.  On  common  days  Parliament 
luvi  debct  inchonri  hora  mediae  primse — in  diebus  festn-ia  ho:a  prima  proptet 
(lii-inum  servitum.  In  a  contemporary  French  translation  of  this  treatise, 
Ms.  Harl.  305,  hora  mediae  primiv,  is  rendered  a  la  my  heure  le  prime  ;  in  ari 
old  English  version,  Ms.  Harl.  9:iO,  the  onre  of  mytl  p'ri/me  ;  and  'n  another, 
Ms.  Harl.  1309,  middle  prime  time.  Our  author  uses  prime  large,  ver.  10,674, 
to  signify  that  prime  was  considerably  past." 

3909.  sette  his  home.    The  same  ns  set  his  cap.     See  1.  588. 

The  Jteeves  Tale.  This  was  a  very  popular  story  in  the  middle  ages,  and  is 
found  under  several  different  forms.  It  occurs  frequently  in  the  jest  and 
story  hooks  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries.  Boccacio  lias  given 
it  in  the  Decameron,  evidently  from  a  fabliau,  whi>-h  has  been  printed  in 
Barbazan  under  the  title  of  l>e  Gomlxrl  ct  </t.<  dittx  cltrx.  Chaucer  took  the 
story  from  another  fabliau,  which  I  cave  printed  and  first  pointed  out  to 
notice  in  my  Anccdota  Litt-rariii,  p.  lo. 


THE  REEVES  TALE.  115 


This  dronken  Myllere  hath  i-tolde  us  heer, 

How  that  bygiled  was  a  carpenter, 

Pera venture  in  scorn,  for  I  am  oon  ; 

And  by  your  leve,  I  schal  him  quyte  anoon. 

Right  in  his  cherles  termes  wol  I  speke  ; 

I  pray  to  Grod  his  nekke  mot  to-breke  ! 

He  can  wel  in  myn  eye  see  a  stalke, 

But  in  his  owne  he  can  nought  seen  a  I  alke." 

THE   REEVES   TALE. 

AT  Trornpyngtoun,  nat  fer  fro  Cantebrigge, 
Thergoth  a  brook,  and  over  that  a  brigge,  39*0 

Upon  the  whiche  brook  ther  stant  a  ruelle  : 
And  this  is  verray  sothe  that  I  you  telle. 
A  meller  was  ther  dwellyng  many  a  day 
As  eny  pecok  he  was  prowd  and  gay  ; 
Pipen  he  coude,  and  fisshe,  and  nettys  beete, 
And  turne  cuppes,  wrastle  wel,  and  scheete. 
Ay  by  his  belt  he  bar  a  long  panade, 
And  of  a  swerd  ful  trenchaunt  was  the  blade. 
A  joly  popper  bar  he  in  his  pouche  ; 
Ther  was  no  man  for  perel  durst  him  touche.  3930 

A  Scheffeld  thwitel  bar  he  in  his  hose. 
Round  was  his  face,  and  camois  was  his  nose. 
As  pyled  as  an  ape  was  his  skulle. 
He  was  a  market-beter  at  the  fulle. 
Ther  durste  no  wight  hand  upon  him  legge, 
That  he  ne  swor  anon  he  schuld  abegge. 

A  theef  he  was  for  soth  of  corn  and  mele, 
And  that  a  sleigh,  and  usyng  for  to  stele. 
Uis  name  was  hoote  deynous  Symekyn. 
A  wyf  he  hadde,  come  of  noble  kyn  ;  3940 

The  persoun  of  the  toun  hir  fader  was. 
With  hire  he  gaf  ful  many  a  paune  of  bras, 
For  that  Symkyii  schuld  in  his  olood  allye. 
Sche  was  i-fostryd  in  a  nonnerye  ; 
For  Smykyn  wolde  no  wyf,  as  he  sayde, 
But  sche  were  wel  i-noi-issched  and  a  mayde, 
To  saven  his  estaat  and  yomanrye. 
And  suhe  was  proud  and  pert  as  is  a  pye. 
A  ful  fair  sighte  was  ther  on  hem  two  ; 
On  haly  dayes  bifore  hir  wolde  he  go  3950 

With  his  typet  y-bounde  aboute  his  heed  ; 
And  sche  cam  aftir  in  a  gyte  of  reed, 
And  Symkyu  hadde  hosen  of  the  same. 


lift  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Ther  durste  no  wight  clepo  hir  but  madame  ; 

Was  noon  so  hardy  walkyng  by  the  weye. 

That  with  hir  dorste  rage  or  elles  pleye, 

But  if  he  wold  be  slayn  of  Syiiickyn 

With  panade,  or  with  knyf,  or  boydekyn  ; 

For  gilous  folk  ben  perilous  everemo, 

Algate  they  vvolde  here  wyves  wende  so.  3960 

And  eok  for  sche  was  somdel  smoterlich, 

Sche  was  as  deyne  as  water  in  a  dich, 

As  ful  of  hokir,  and  of  bissemare. 

Hir  thoughte  ladyes  oughten  hir  to  spare, 

What  for  hir  kynreed  and  hir  nortelrye, 

That  sehe  had  lerned  in  the  nonnerye. 

O  doughter  hadden  they  betwix  hein  two, 

Of  tweiiti  yeer,  withouten  eny  mo, 

Savyng  a  child  that  was  of  half  yer  age, 

In  cradil  lay,  and  was  a  proper  page.  3970 

This  wenche  thikke  and  wel  i-growen  was, 

With  camoys  nose,  and  eyghen  gray  as  glas ; 

And  buttokkes  brode,  and  brestes  round  and  hye, 

But  right  fair  was  hir  heer,  I  wol  nat  lye. 

The  persoun  of  the  toun,  for  sche  was  feir, 

In  purpos  was  to  maken  hir  his  heir, 

Bothe  of  his  catel  and  his  mesuage, 

And  straunge  made  it  of  hir  mariage. 

His  purpos  was  to  bystow  hir  hye 

Into  soin  worthy  blood  of  ancetrye  ;  3980 

For  holy  chirche  good  moot  be  despendid 

On  holy  chirche  blood  that  is  descendid. 

Therfore  he  wolde  his  joly  blood  honoure, 

Though  that  he  schulde  holy  chirche  devoure. 

Gret  soken  hath  this  meller,  out  of  douto, 
With  whete  and  malt,  of  al  the  lond  aboute  ; 
And  namely  ther  was  a  gret  collegge, 
Men  clepe  it  the  Soler-halle  of  Cantebregge 
Ther  was  here  whete  and  eek  here  malt  i-grounde. 
And  on  a  day  it  happed  in  a  stounde,  3990 

Syk  lay  the  mauncyple  on  a  maledye, 
Men  wenden  wisly  that  he  schulde  dyej 

3964.  madame.  In  the  description  of  the  nun  (1.  378),  who  also  prided  her* 
•eif  upon  her  gentility,  Chiuicer  says,— 

It  is  right  fair  for  to  be  clept  madame, 
And  for  to  go  to  vigiles  al  byfore. 

3988.  the  S.  er-fialle.  There  was  a  tradition  in  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, at  least  as  early  as  the  time  of  (  aius,  and  it  may  perhaps  be  correct, 
that  the  college  alluded  to  by  Chaucer  was  Clare  Hall.  See  Cams,  Hist.  A  cad. 
p.  57,  and  Fuller's  Hist,  of  the  Univ.  of  Camb.  p.  86  (ed.  1840).  The  name 
f!oler-hal/e,  of  course,  means  the  hall  with  the  soler  or  upper  story,  which,  a* 
Wanon  observes,  would  be  a  suthcient  mark  of  distinction  in  earfy  times 


THE  REEVES  TALL.  H7 


For  which  this  meller  stal  bothe  mele  and  corn 

A  thousend  part  more  than  byforn. 

For  ther  biforn  he  stal  but  curteysly  ; 

But  now  he  is  a  theef  outrageously. 

For  which  the  wardeyn  chidde  and  made  fare, 

But  therof  sette  the  meller  not  a  tare ; 

lie  crakked  boost,  and  swor  it  was  nat  so. 

Tha,niie  weren  there  poore  scoleres  tuo,  4000 

That  dwelten  in  the  halle  of  which  I  seye  ; 

Testyf  they  were,  and  lusty  for  to  pleye  ; 

And,  oonly  for  here  mirthe  and  revelrye, 

Uppon  the  Avardeyn  bysily  they  crye, 

To  geve  hem  leve  but  a  litel  stound 

To  go  to  melle  and  see  here  corn  i-grounde  j 

And  hardily  they  dursten  ley  here  nekke, 

The  meller  schuld  nat  stel  hem  half  a  pekke 

Of  corn  by  sleighte,  ne  by  force  hem  reve. 

And  atte  last  the  wardeyn  gaf  hem  leve.  40*0 

Johan  hight  that  oon,  and  Alayn  hight  that  other  ; 

Of  o  toun  were  they  born  that  highte  Strothir, 

Fer  in  the  North,  1  can  nat  telle  where. 

This  Aleyn  maketh  redy  al  his  gere, 

And  on  an  hors  the  sak  he  cast  anoon  : 

Forth  goth  Aleyn  the  clerk,  and  also  Jon, 

With  good  swerd  and  with  bocler  by  her  side. 

Johan  knew  the  way,  that  hem  needith  no  gyde  ; 

And  at  the  my  lie  the  sak  adoun  he  layth.  4020 

Alayn  spak  first :  "  Al  heil  !  Syniond,  in  faith 

How  fares  thy  faire  doughter  and  thy  wyf  ?  " 

"  Alayn,  welcome,"  quod  Symond,  "  by  my  lyf ! 

And  Johan  also  ;  how  now  1  what  do  ye  here  ?" 

"By  God!"  quod  Johan,   "Symond,  neede  has  ua 

peere. 

Him  falles  serve  himself  that  has  na  swayn, 
Or  elles  he  is  a  fon,  as  clerkes  sayn. 
Oure  mancyple,  as  I  hope,  wil  be  deed, 
Swa  werkes  ay  the  wanges  in  his  heed  : 
And  therfore  I  is  come,  and  eek  Alayn, 
To  grynde  oure  corn,  and  carie  it  ham  ageyn.        40JG 

4011.  Johan.    This  is  the  correct  form  of  tbe  name,  tbe  a  being  generally 
Indicated  by  a  dash  on  the  upper  limb  of  the  h.  In  the  manuscript  from  which 
our  text  IB  taken,  the  contraction  is  sometimes  written  Joh»n.    John,  as  Tyr 
whitt  prints  it,  is  a  much  more  modern  orthography.     Where  the  name  is  re 
quired  to  be  a  monosyllable,  it  is  here  spelt  Jon,  probably  an  abbreviation  ol 
familiarity,  as  Tom  and  the  like. 

4012.  Strothir.    This  was  the  valley  of  Langstroth,  or  Langstrothdale,  ir 
the  West  Hiding  of  Yorkshire,  as  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Whilaker,  Hist,  of  C'ra 
yen,  p.  493.    I  am  informed  that  the  dialect  of  this  district  may  be  recognized 
iu  the  phraseology  of  Chaucer's  "  scoleres  tuo." 


118  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

I  prey  you  speed  us  in  al  that  ye  may.  ' 

"  It  sclial  be  doon,"  quod  Symkyn,  "  by  my  fay  . 

What  wol  ye  do  whil  that  it  is  in  hande  ?  " 

"  By  God  1  right  by  the  hoper  wol  I  stande," 

Qiiod  Johan,  "  and  se  how  that  the  corn  gas  inno. 

Yet  sawh  I  never,  by  my  fader  kynne  ! 

How  that  the  hoper  waggis  to  and  fra." 

Aleyn  answerde,  "  Johan,  and  wiltow  swa  ? 

Than  wol  I  be  bynethe,  by  my  croun  1 

And  se  how  that  the  mele  fallys  doun  4046 

Into  the  trough,  that  schal  be  my  desport ; 

For,  Jon,  in  faith,  I  may  be  of  your  sort, 

I  is  as  ille  a  meller  as  ere  ye." 

This  mellere  smyleth  for  here  nycete, 

And  thought,  "  Al  this  is  doon  but  for  a  wyle  ; 

They  wenen  that  no  man  may  hem  bigile. 

But,  by  my  thrift,  yet  schal  I  blere  here  ye, 

For  al  here  sleight  and  al  here  philosophic  ; 

The  more  queynte  knakkes  that  they  make, 

The  more  wol  I  stele  whan  I  take.  4050 

In  stede  of  mele,  yet  wol  I  geve  hem  bren. 

The  grettest  clerks  beth  not  the  wisest  men, 

As  whilom  to  the  wolf  thus  spak  the  mare  ; 

Of  al  her  art  ne  counte  I  nat  a  tare." 

Out  at  the  dore  he  goth  ful  pryvyly, 

Whan  that  he  saugh  his  tyme  sotyly ; 

He  loketh  up  and  doun,  til  he  hath  founde 

The  clerkes  hors.  ther  as  it  stood  i-bounde 

Behynde  the  mylle,  under  a  levesel  ; 

And  to  the  hors  he  goth  him  faire  and  wel.  4090 

Ele  strepeth  of  the  bridel  right  anoon. 

A.nd  whan  the  hors  was  loos,  he  gan  to  goon 

Toward  the  fen  there  wilde  mares  renne, 

forth  with  "  wi-he  1  "  thurgh  thikke  and  eek  th  irgh 

thenne. 

This  meller  goth  agayn,  and  no  word  seyde, 
But  doth  his  note,  and  with  tne  clerkes  pleyde, 

4  3.  the  icolf.  The  fable  of  the  Wolf  and  the  Mare  is  found  in  the  Lati» 
K<O!  jan  collections,  and  in  the  early  French  poem  of  Renard  le  ContrefaH4 
fro ir  v hence  it  appears  to  have  been  taken  into  the  English  Keynard  tha 
Fox.  In  Kenard  le  Contrefait  the  wolf  utters  a  similar  sentiment  (though 
d'l'ereutly  expressed)  to  that  in  Chaucer, — 

Or  yoi-ge  bien  tout  en  apert 
Que  clergie  bien  sa  sai>on  pert ; 
Aucunes  foiz  vilain  (jueaignent 
Ee  leus  oil  le  clerc  se  mehaignent. 


Ge  ne  (is  inie  grant  savoir, 
Quant  ge  vouloie  clers  devenir. 


THE  REEVES  TALE.  119 


Til  that  her  corn  was  fair  and  wel  i-grounde. 

And  whan  the  niele  was  sakked  and  i-bounde, 

This  Johan  goth  out.  and  fynt  his  hors  away, 

And  gan  to  crye,  "  Harrow  and  weylaway  !  4070 

Otire  hors  is  lost !  Aleyn,  for  Goddes  banes, 

Step  on  thy  feet,  cum  on,  man,  al  at  anes. 

Alias  !  our  wardeyn  hath  his  palfray  lorn  !  " 

This  Aleyn  al  forgeteth  inele  and  corn, 

Al  was  out  of  his  mynd  his  housbondrye  ; 

"  What  wikked  way  is  he  gan  ?  "  gan  he  crye. 

The  wyf  cam  lepyng  in-\vard  with  a  ren, 

Sche  seyde,  "  Alias  1  your  hors  goth  to  the  fen 

With  wylde  mares,  as  fast  as  he  may  go  ; 

Unthank  come  on  his  heed  that  band  him  so,         4080 

And  he  that  bettir  schuld  han  kriyt  the  reyne  !  " 

"  Alias  !  "  quod  Johan,  "  Aleyn,  for  Cristes  peyne ! 

Leg  doun  thi  swerd,  and  I  sal  myn  alswa  ; 

I  is  ful  wight,  God  wat,  as  is  a  ra ; 

By  Goddes  hart !  he  sal  nat  scape  us  bathe. 
Why  nad  thou  put  the  capil  in  the  lathe  ? 

II  hail,  Aleyn,  by  God  !  thou  is  a  fon  1  " 
This  selyclerkes  speeden  hem  anoon 
Toward  the  fen,  bothe  Aleyn  and  eek  Jon. 

And  whan  the  myller  sawh  that  they  were  gon,      4090 

He  half  a  busshel  of  the  flour  hath  take, 

And  bad  his  wyf  go  knede  it  in  a  cake. 

He  seyde,  "  I  trowe  the  clerkes  ben  aferd  ! 

Yet  can  a  miller  make  a  clerkes  berd, 

For  al  his  art ;  ye,  lat  him  go  here  way  ! 

Lo  wher  they  goon  !  ye,  lat  the  children  play ; 

They  get  hym  nat  so  lightly,  by  my  croun!  " 

This  seely  clerkes  ronnen  up  and  doun, 

With  "  Keep  !  keep  !  stand  !  stand  !  jossa,  ware  derere! 

Ga  wightly  thou,  and  I  sal  keep  him  heere."  4100 

But  schortly,  til  that  it  was  verray  night, 

They  cowde  nat,  though  they  did  al  here  might, 

Mere  capil  cacche,  it  ran  away  so  fast, 

Til  in  a  diche  tliey  caught  him  atte  last. 

Wery  and  wete  as  bestys  in  the  reyn, 

Comth  sely  Johan,  and  with  him  comth  Aleyn. 

"  Alias  !  "  quod  Johan,  "  that  day  that  I  was  born  I 

Now  are  we  dryve  til  hethyng  and  to  scorn. 

Oure  corn  is  stole,  men  woln  us  foles  calle, 

Bathe  the  wardeyn  and  eek  our  felaws  alle,  4110 

4094.  make  a  clerkes   berd.    A  proverbial  phrase  taken  from  the  French, 
tMr«  la  barbe  &  quelqu'un.     It  occurs  again  further  on,  1.  59i3. 


120  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  namely  the  myller,  weyloway  1 '  * 

Thus  pleyneth  Johan,  as  he  goth  by  the  way 

Toward  the  mylle,  and  Bayard  in  his  hand. 

The  myller  sittyng  by  the  fyr  he  fand, 

For  it  was  night,  and  forther  might  they  nought, 

But  for  the  love  of  God  they  him  bisought 

Of  herberwh  and  of  ese,  as  for  her  peny. 

The  myller  sayd  agayn,  "  If  ther  be  eny, 

Swich  as  it  is,  yit  schul  ye  have  your  part. 

Myn  hous  is  stnjyt,  but  ye  han  lerned  art ; 

?e  conne  by  argumentes  make  a  place 

A  inyl  brood  of  twenty  foote  of  space. 

Let  se  now  if  this  place  may  suffyse, 

Or  make  it  rom  with  speche,  as  is  your  gyse." 

"Now,  Symond,"  seyde  this  Johan,  "  by  seynt  Cuth- 

berd! 

Ay  is  thou  mery,  and  that  is  fair  answerd. 
I  have  herd  say,  men  suld  take  of  twa  thinges, 
Slik  as  he  fynt,  or  tak  slik  as  he  bringes. 
But  specially  I  pray  the,  host  ful  deere, 
Get  us  som  mete  and  drynk,  and  mak  us  cheere,     4120 
And  we  wol  paye  trewly  at  the  fulle  ; 
With  empty  hand  men  may  na  hawkes  tulle. 
Lo  heer  our  silver  redy  for  to  spende." 
This  meller  into  tonn  his  doughter  sende 
For  ale  and  breed,  and  rested  hem  a  goos, 
And  band  her  hors,  he  schold  no  more  go  loos ; 
And  in  his  owne  chambir  hem  made  a  bed, 
With  schetys  and  with  chalouns  fair  i-spred, 
Nat  from  his  owen  bed  ten  foot  or  twelve. 
His  doughter  has  a  bed  al  by  hirselve,  4140 

Right  in  the  same  chambre  by  and  by  ; 
It  mighte  be  no  bet,  and  cause  why 
Ther  was  no  rommer  herberw  in  the  place. 
They  sowpen,  and  they  speken  of  solace, 
And  dronken  ever  strung  ale  atte  beste. 
Aboute  mydnyght  wente  they  to  reste. 
Wei  hath  the  myller  vernysshed  his  heed, 
Ful  pale  he  was,  for-tlronken,  and  nat  reed  ; 
He  yoxeth,  and  he  spekfth  thurgh  the  nose, 
As  he  were  on  the  quakke  or  on  the  pose.  4150 

To  bed  he  goth,  and  with  him  goth  his  wyf, 
As  eny  jay  sche  light  was  and  jolyf, 
Bo  was  hir  joly  whistel  wel  y-wet ; 
The  cradil  at  hire  beddes  feet  is  set, 

4132.  with  empty  hand.    Couf.  1.  5907,  where  the  prorerb  is  given   torn* 
vhAt  differently. 


THE  REEVE1  TALE.  121 


To  rokken,  and  to  give  the  child  to  souke. 

And  whan  that  dronken  was  al  in  the  crouke; 

To  beilde  wont  the  do  lighter  right  anon  ; 

To  beclde  goth  Aleyn,  and  also  Jon, 

Ther  nas  no  more,  him  needeth  no  dwale. 

This  meller  hath  so  wysly  bibbed  ale,  4160 

That  as  an  hors  he  snortith  in  his  sleep, 

Ne  of  his  tayl  bihynd  took  he  no  keep. 

His  wyf  bar  him  a  burdoun,  a  ful  strong, 

Men  might  her  rowtyng  heeren  a  forlong. 

The  wenche  routeth  eek  par  company e. 

Aleyn  the  clerk,  that  herd  this  melodye, 

He  pokyd  Johan,  and  seyde,  "  Slepistow  ? 

Herdistow  ever  slik  a  sang  er  now  ? 

Lo,  slik  a  conplyng  is  betwix  hem  alle, 

A  wilde  fyr  upon  thair  bodyes  falle  !  41TO 

Wha  herkned  ever  swilk  a  ferly  thing  ? 

Ye,  thei  sul  have  the  flour  of  ille  endyng  1 

This  lange  night  ther  tydes  me  na  rest. 

But  yet  na  fors,  al  sal  be  for  the  best. 

For  Johan,"  sayd  he,  "  as  ever  mot  I  thryve, 

If  that  I  may,  yone  wenche  sal  I  swyve. 

Som  esement  hath  lawe  schapen  us  ; 

For  Johan,  ther  is  a  lawe  that  says  thus, 

That  if  a  man  in  a  point  be  agreved, 

That  in  another  he  sal  be  releeved.  4180 

Oure  corn  is  stoln,  sothly,  it  is  na  nay, 

And  we  have  had  an  ylle  fitt  to  day  ; 

And  syn  1  sal  have  nan  amendement 

Agayn  my  los,  I  wol  have  esement. 

By  Goddes  sale  !  it  sal  nan  other  be." 

This  Johan  answerd,  "  Aleyn,  avyse  the  ; 

The  miller  is  a  perlous  man,"  he  sayde, 

"  And  if  that  he  out  of  his  sleep  abrayde, 

lie  mighte  do  us  bothe  a  vilonye." 

Aleyn  answerd,  "  I  count  it  nat  a  five  !  "  4190 

And  up  he  roos,  and  by  the  weuche  he  crepte. 

This  wenche  lay  upright  and  faste  slepte, 

Til  he  so  neih  was  or  sche  might  aspye 

That  it  had  ben  to  late  for  to  crye. 

And  schortly  for  to  seye,  they  weren  at  oon. 

JNTow  pley,  Alein,  for  I  wol  speke  of  Jon. 

This  Johan  lith  stille  a  forlong  whyle  or  two, 
And  to  himself  compleyned  of  his  woo. 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  he,  "  this  is  a  wikked  jape  j 

4179.  A  marginal  note  in  the  MS.  says,— Qui  in  uno  gravatur,  in  alio  debe» 
role  van. 


122  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Now  may  I  say  that  I  am  but  an  ape.  4200 

Yet  hath  my  felaw  somwhat  for  his  harm  ; 

He  hath  the  my  Hers  doughter  in  his  arm  ; 

He  auntrec*  him,  and  has  his  needes  sped, 

And  I  lye  as  a  draf-sak  in  my  bed  ; 

And  when  this  jape  is  tald  another  day, 

I  sa*  be  hald  a  daf,  a  cokenay. 

Unhardy  is  unsely,  as  men  saith. 

I  wol  arise,  and  auntre  it,  in  good  faith." 

And  up  he  ros,  and  softely  he  wente 

Onto  the  cradil,  and  in  his  hand  it  hente,  4210 

And  bar  it  softe  unto  his  beddis  feet. 

Soone  after  this  the  wyf  hir  routyng  leet, 

And  gan  awake,  and  went  hir  forth  to  pisse, 

And  cam  agayn,  and  gan  hir  cradel  mysse, 

And  groped  heer  and  ther,  but  sche  fond  noon. 

"  Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  I  had  almost  mysgoon  ; 

I  had  almost  goon  to  the  clerkes  bed, 

Ey,  benedicite  !  than  had  I  foule  i-sped  !  " 

And  forth  sche  goth,  til  sche  the  cradil  fand. 

Sche  gropith  ahvay  forther  with  hir  hand,  4320 

And  fand  the  bed,  and  thoughte  nat  but  good, 

Bycause  that  the  cradil  by  it  stood, 

Nat  knowyng  wher  sche  was,  for  it  was  derk  ; 

But  faire  and  wel  sche  creep  in  to  the  clerk, 

And  lith  ful  stiile,  and  wolde  han  caught  a  sleep 

Withinne  a  while  Johan  the  clerk  up  leep, 

And  on  this  goode  wyf  leyth  on  ful  sore  ; 

So  mery  a  fytt  ne  hadd  sche  nat  ful  yore. 

He  priketh  harde  and  deepe,  as  he  were  mad. 

This  joly  lyf  han  this  twey  clerkes  had,  4230 

Til  that  the  thridde  cok  bygan  to  synge. 

Aleyn  wax  wery  in  the  dawenynge, 

For  he  had  swonken  al  the  longe  night, 

And  seyd,  "  Farwel,  Malyri,  my  sweete  wight ! 

The  day  is  come,  I  may  no  lenger  byde ; 

But  evermo,  wher  so  I  go  or  ryde, 

I  am  thin  owen  clerk,  so  have  I  seel !  " 

"  Now,  deere  lemman,"  quod  sche,  "  go.  farwel ! 

But  or  thou  go,  o  thing  I  wol  the  telle  : 

Whan  that  thou  wendist  horn-ward  by  the  melie, 

Right  at  the  entre  of  the  dore  byhynde 

Thou  schalt  a  cake  of  half  a  busshel  fynde, 

That  was  i-rnaked  of  thyn  owen  mele, 

Which  that  I  hilp  myn  owen  self  to  stele. 

And,  goodo  lemman,  God  the  save  and  kepe  !  " 

And  with  ti-irvt  word  almost  sche  gan  to  weepe. 


THE  REEVES  TALE  123 


Aleyn  uprist,  and  thought,  "  Er  that  it  dawe 
I  wol  go  crepen  in  by  my  felawe  ;  " 
And  fand  the  cradil  with  his  hand  anon. 
"  By  God  !  "  thought  he,  "  al  wrong  I  have  i-goon. 
My  heed  is  toty  of  my  swynk  to  nyght  4251 

That  makes  me  that  I  ga  nought  aright. 
I  wet  wel  by  the  cradel  I  have  mysgo ; 
Heer  lith  the  myller  and  his  wyf  also." 
Forth  he  goth  in  twenty  devel  way 
Unto  the  bed,  ther  as  the  miller  lay. 
He  weride  have  crope  by  his  felaw  Jon, 
And  by  the  myller  in  he  creep  anon, 
And  caught  him  by  the  nekke,  and  soft  he  spak, 
And  seyde,  "  Jon,  thou  swyneshed,  awak,  4260 

For  Cristes  sowle  !  and  here  a  noble  game  ; 
For,  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  seynt  Jame, 
As  I  have  thries  in  this  schorte  night 
Swyved  the  myllers  doughter  bolt  upright, 
Whiles  thou  hast  as  a  coward  ben  agast." 
"  Ye,  false  harlot,"  quod  this  mellere,  "  hast  ? 
A  !  false  traitour,  false  clerk  !  "  quod  he, 
"  Thou  schalt  be  deed,  by  Goddes  dignite  ! 
Who  durste  be  so  bold  to  disparage 
My  doughter,  that  is  come  of  hih  lynage  ?  "  4270 

And  by  the  throte-bolle  he  caught  Aleyn, 
And  he  hent  him  dispitously  ageyn, 
And  on  the  nose  he  smot  him  with  his  fest. 
Doun  ran  the  bloody  streem  upon  his  brest ; 
And  in  the  floor  with  nose  and  mouth  to-broke 
They  walweden  as  pigges  in  a  poke  ; 
And  up  they  goon,  and  doun  they  goon  anon, 
Til  that  the  millner  stumbled  at  a  ston, 
And  doun  he  felle  bakward  on  his  wyf, 
That  wyste  nothing  of  this  nyce  stryf ;  4280 

For  sche  was  falle  asleepe  a  litel  wight 
With  Jon  the  clerk,  that  waked  al  the  night, 
And  with  the  falle  right  out  of  slepe  sche  brayde. 
"  Help,  holy  croys  of  Bromholme!  "  sche  sayde, 
"  In  manus  tuas,  Lord,  to  the  I  calle  ! 
Awake,  Symond,  the  feend  is  in  thin  halle  ! 
My  hert  is  broken  !  help  !  1  am  but  deed ! 
Ther  lythe  upon  my  wombe  and  on  myn  heed. 

4284.  holy  croys  nf  Jlromholme.  Portions  of  the  real  cross  were  said  t« 
compose  the  cross  of  tlie  priory  of  Broiiiholrne,  in  Norfolk,  brought  into  Kng- 
land  with  great  ceremony  in  lL'23,  and  thenceforth  an  extraordinarily  popular 
object  of  pilgrimage.  '  By  the  cross  (or  rood)  of  Uromholrje  !'  seems  to  have 
been  a  very  common  for«uula  of  swearing,  and  is  found  iu  the  Tiers  Plough/ 
mac,  and  elsewhere 


124  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Help,  Symkyn  !  for  this  false  clerkes  fight." 

This  Johan  stert  up  as  fast  as  ever  he  might,  4290 

And  grasped  by  the  walles  to  and  fro, 

To  fyride  a  staf;  and  sche  sturt  up  also, 

And  knewe  the  estres  bet  than  dede  Jon, 

And  by  the  wal  sche  took  a  staf  anon, 

And  sawh  a  litel  glymeryng  of  a  light  ; 

For  at  an  hool  in  schon  the  moone  bright, 

And  by  that  light  sche  saugh  hem  bothe  two  ; 

But  sikirly  sche  wiste  nat  who  was  who, 

But  as  sche  saugh  a  whit  thing  in  hir  ye.  180C 

And  whan  sche  gan  this  white  thing  aspye, 

Sche  wend  the  clerk  had  wered  a  volupeer  ; 

And  with  a  staf  sche  drough  hir  neer  and  neer, 

And  wend  have  hit  this  Aleyn  atte  fulle, 

And  smot  this  rueller  on  the  piled  sculle, 

That  doun  he  goth,  and  cryeth,  "Harrow  !  1  dye!  " 

This  clerkes  beeten  him  wel,  and  leet  hyin  lye, 

And  greyth  hem  wel,  and  take  her  hors  anon, 

And  eek  here  mele,  and  hoom  anon  they  goon  ; 

And  at  the  milleri  dore  they  tok  here  cake 

Of  half  a  buisshel  flour  ful  wel  i-bake.  4310 

Thus  is  the  prowde  miller  wel  i-bete, 
And  hath  i-lost  the  gryndyng  of  the  whete, 
And  payed  for  the  soper  every  del 
Of  Aleyn  and  of  Johan,  that  beten  him  wel  ; 
His  wyf  is  swyved,  and  his  doughter  ale. 
Lo  !  such  it  is  a  miller  to  be  fals. 
And  therto  this  proverbe  is  seyd  ful  soth, 
He  thar  nat  weene  wel  that  evyl  doth. 
A  gylour  schal  himself  bygiled  be. 

And  (rod,  that  sitest  in  thy  mageste,  4320 

Save  al  this  compaignie,  gret  and  smale. 
Thus  have  I  quyt  the  miller  in  his  tale. 

THE  COKES   PROLOGK. 

THE  Cook  of  Londone.  whil  the  Reeve  spak, 
For  joye  he  thought  he  clawed  him  on  the  bak  ; 
"  Ha,  ha  !  "  quod  he,  "  for  Cristes  passioun, 
This  meller  hath  a,  scharp  conclusioun 
Upon  his  argument  of  herburgage. 
Wel  seyde  Salomon  in  his  langage, 
Ne  bryng  nat  every  man  into  thyn  hous, 
For  herburgage  by  night  i^  perilous.  4330 

431S.  lie  thar  nat.    The  literal  moaning  of  this  proverb  seems  to  b«,  "  H« 
need  not  imagine,  or  suppose,  well,  who  does  evil." 


THE  COKES  TALE.  125 


Wei  aught  a  pmn  avised  for  to  be 

Whom  that  he  brought  into  his  pryvyte. 

I  pray  to  God  so  gyf  my  body  care, 

Gif  ever,  siththen  I  highte  Hogge  of  Ware. 

llerd  I  a  better  miller  set  a-\verke  ; 

He  hadde  a  jape  of  malice  in  the  derke. 

But  God  forbede  that  we  stynten  heere, 

And  therfore  if  ye  vouchesauf  to  heere 

A  ta.le  of  me  that  am  a  pover  man, 

I  wol  yow  telle  as  wel  as  1  kan  4840 

A  litel  jape  that  fel  in  oure  cite." 

Oure  Host  answerde  and  seyde,  "  I  graunt  it  the. 
Now  telle  on,  Roger,  and  loke  it  be  good  ; 
For  nrany  a  pastey  hastow  lete  blood, 
And  many  a  Jakk  of  Dover  hastow  sold, 
That  hath  be  twyes  hoot  and  twyes  cold. 
Of  many  a  pylgrym  hastow  Cristes  curs  ; 
For  thy  persly  they  faren  yet  the  wors, 
That  they  have  eten  with  the  stubbil  goos  ; 
For  in  thy  schoppe  is  many  a  llye  loos.  4350 

Now  tell  011,  gentil  Roger  by  thy  name, 
But  yit  I  pray  the  be  nought  wroth  for  game  ; 
A  man  may  seye  ful  sothe  in  game  and  pley." 

"  Thow  saist  ful  soth,"  quod  Roger,  "  by  niy  fey  ! 
But  soth  play  quad  play,  as  the  Flemyng  saith  ; 
And  therfore,  Kerry  Baillif,  by  thy  faith, 
Be  thou  nat  wroth,  or  we  departe  her, 
Thougli  that  my  tale  be  of  an  hostyler. 
But  natheles  I  wol  not  telle  it  yit, 

But  or  we  departe  it  schal  be  quyt."  4360 

And  therwithal  he  lowh  and  made  chere, 
And  seyde  his  tale,  as  ye  schal  after  heere, 

THE   COKKS   TALK. 

A  PRENTYS  dwelled  whilom  in  oure  citee, 
And  of  a  craft  of  vitaillers  was  he  ; 
fray  lard  he  was,  as  goldfynch  in  the  schawe, 
Broun  as  a  bery,  and  a  propre  felawe, 
With  lokkes  blak,  arid  kempt  ful  fetously. 

4315.  Jukk  of  Dorer.  Some  article  of  cookery,  which  I  have  not  found 
mentioned  or  alluded  to  elsewhere,  and  which  it  would  therefore  be  viiii  to 
iUempt  to  explain. 

4353.  This  line,  us  well  as  1.  4350,  is  omitted  in  Ms.  Harl.,  which  reads  by 
my  faith  in  1.  4354,  to  make  it  rhyme  with  43oo. 

4355.  soth  play.  Tyrwhitt,  to  make  Flemish  of  the  phrase,  reads  soth  play 
yua</«  s/if7,  which,  after  all,  is  but  half  Flemish,  and  is  contrary  to  the  geii' 
eral  authority  of  the  jiss.  lie  quotes  fron.  Sir  , John  Harrington's  ApUomt 
fur  I'oeirie  a  similar  Knjjlish  proverb,  aot/i  fuiunle  is  no  bourde. 


126  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Dauncen  he  cowde  wel  and  prately. 
That  he  was  cleped  Perkyn  Revellour. 
He  was  as  ful  of  love  and  paramour  437i 

As  is  the  honycombe  of  hony  swete  j 
Wel  were  the  wenche  that  ruighte  him  meete. 
[At  every  bridale  wold  he  synge  and  hoppe  ; 
Re  loved  bet  the  taverne  than  the  schoppe.] 
For  whan  ther  eny  rydyng  was  in  Cheepe 
Out  of  the  schoppe  thider  wolde  he  lepe, 
And  tyl  he  hadde  al  that  sight  i-seyn, 
And  daunced  wel,  he  nold  nat  come  ageyn  j 
Arid  gadred  him  a  meyne  of  his  sort, 
To  hoppe  and  synge,  and  make  such  disport.          4380 
And  ther  they  setten  stevene  for  to  meete, 
To  pleyen  atte  dys  in  such  a  strete. 
For  in  the  toun  ne  was  ther  no  prentys 
That  fairer  cowde  caste  a  peyre  dys 
Than  Perkyn  couthe,  and  therto  he  was  free 
Of  his  dispence,  in  place  of  pryvyte. 
That  fand  his  mayster  wel  in  his  chaffare, 
For  often  tyme  he  fond  his  box  ful  bare. 
For  such  a  joly  prentys  revelour, 

That  haunteth  dys,  revel,  or  paramour,  4390 

His  maister  schal  it  in  his  schoppe  abye, 
Al  have  he  no  part  of  the  mynstralcye. 
For  thefte  and  ryot  be  convertyble, 
A I  can  they  pley  on  giterne  or  rubible. 
Revel  and  trouthe,  as  in  a  lowe  degre, 
They  ben  ful  wroth  al  day,  as  ye  may  see. 
This  joly  prentys  with  his  mayster  bood, 
Til  he  was  oute  neygh  of  his  prentyshood, 
Al  were  he  sriybbyd  bothe  erly  and  late, 
And  som  tyme  lad  with  revel  into  Newgate.  4400 

But  atte  laste  his  mayster  him  bythonght . 
Upon  a  day,  whan  he  his  papyr  sought, 
Of  a  proverbe,  that  saith  this  same  word, 
Wel  bette  is  roteii  appul  out  of  hord, 
Tliau  that  it  rote  al  the  remenaunt. 
So  fareth  it  by  a  ryotous  servaunt ; 
It  is  ful  lasse  harm  to  late  him  pace, 
Than  he  schend  al  the  servauutes  in  the  place. 
Therfore  his  mayster  gaf  him  acquitaunce, 
And  bad  him  go,  with  sorwe  and  with  meschaunce. 

WTS.  This  ami  the  following  line  are  omitted  in  MB.  Harl. 
4375.  in  Cheepe.    Chuapeide  was  the  grand  scene  of  city  festivals  and  ji+ 
tensions. 

4409.  acguitawice.     The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  acqueyntaunce. 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELY N.  127 

Arid  thus  the  joly  prentys  had  his  leve.  4411 

Now  let  hym  ryot  al  the  night  or  leve. 

And  for  ther  is  no  thef  withowten  a  lowke, 

That  helpeth  him  to  wasten  and  to  sowke 

Of  that  he  bribe  can,  or  borwe  may, 

Anon  he  sent  his  bedde  and  his  aray 

Unto  a  compere  of  his  owen  sort, 

That  loved  dis,  and  revel,  and  disport ; 

And  had  a  wyf,  that  held  for  contenaunce 

A  schoppe,  and  swyved  for  hire  sustenaunc.e.          4420 

[Fye  theron,  it  is  so  foule.  I  \vil  nowe  telle  no  forther, 
For  scliame  of  the  harlotrie  that  seweth  after  ; 
A  velany  it  were  thare  of  more  to  spelle, 
Bot  of  a  knyht  and  his  sonnes  my  tale  I  wil  forthe 
telle.] 

THE   COKES  TALE   OF   GAMELYX. 

Litheth,  and  lestneth,  and  herkneth  aright, 
And  ye  schul  heere  a  talkyng  of  a  doughty  knight  j 
Sire  Johan  of  Boundys  was  his  right  name, 
He  cowde  of  norture  ynough  and  mochil  of  game. 
Thre  sones  the  knight  had,  that  with  his  body  he  wan  ; 
The  eldest  was  a  moche  schrewe,  and  sone  he  bygan. 
His  bretheren  loved  wel  here  fader,  and  of  him  were 
agast,  [last. 

The  eldest  deserved  his  fadres  curs,  and  had  it  at  the 
The  goode  knight  his  fader  lyvede  so  yore, 
That  deth  was  comeri  him  to,  and  handled  him  ful  sore. 
The  goode  knight  cared  sore,  sik  ther  he  lay,  ]  1 

How  his  children  scholde  lyven  after  his  day. 

4413.  The  lines  from  4413  to  4420  are  omitted  in  Ms.  Harl.,  but  they  ar« 
evidently  genuine. 

The  Cokes  Tale  ofGamelyn.  Tyrwhitt  omits  this  tale,  as  being  certainly 
not  Chaucer's  ;  in  which  judgment  he  is  probably  right.  It  is,  however, 
found  in  the  Ms-  Harl.  and  all  the  MSS.  1  have  collated.  Tyrwliitt  end* 
abruptly  with  1.  4-120.  In  Ms.  Harl.  the  tale  of  Gamelyn  begins' without  any 
introduction  ;  I  have  added  the  introductory  lines  from  the  Lansdowne  M». 
Other  MSS-,  instead  of  them,  have  only  two, — 

But  herof  I  willo  passe  as  nowe, 

And  of  yonge  Garaelyn  I  wille  telle  yowe. 

The  tale  of  Garnelyn  belongs  to  the  Robin  Hood  cycle,  and  is  curious  as  a 
picture  of  the  times.  It  will  be  at  once  recognized  as  the  foundation  of 
Shakespeare's  Ax  yni  like  it,  though  the  dramatist  appears  to  have  taken  it 
through  the  intermedlance  of  Lodge's  Kuphnts  Golden  Legacy,  which  ia 
clearly  built  on  the  poem  of  Gamelyn.  even  the  name  of  Adam  Spencer  being 
retained.  In  some  uss.  Gamelyu'H  father  is  called  Johan  of  Jjunleu.c,  ail 
additional  link  with  Lodge's  novel.  See  further  remarks  on  il.ia  tale  in  llu 
Introduction. 


128  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

He  hadde  ben  wyde  wher,  but  non  housbond  he  wae, 

Al  the  lond  that  he  had,  it  was  verrey  purchas. 

Fayn  he  wold  it  were  dressed  amonges  hem  alle, 

That  ech  of  hem  had  his  part,  as  it  mighte  falle. 

Tho  sent  he  into  cuntre  after  wise  knightes, 

To  helpe  delen  his  londes  and  dressen  hem  to  rightes. 

He  sent  hem  word  by  lettres  they  schulden  hye  blyve, 

Yf  they  wolde  speke  with  him  whil  he  was  on  lyve.  20 

The  the  knyghtes  herden  sik  ther  he  lay, 

Hadde  they  no  reste  nother  night  ne  day, 

Til  they  comen  to  him  ther  he  lay  stille 

On  his  deth  bedde,  to  abyde  Goddes  wille. 

Than  seyde  the  goode  knight,  syk  ther  he  lay, 

"  Lordes,  I  you  warne  for  soth,  withoute  nay, 

I  may  no  lengere  lyven  heer  in  this  stounde  ; 

For  thurgh  Goddes  wille  deth  draweth  me  to  grounde.  ' 

Ther  nas  11011  of  hem  alle  that  herd  him  aright, 

That  they  haddeii  reuthe  of  that  ilke  knight,  30 

And  seyde,   "  Sir,  for   Goddes  love,   ne   dismay    you 

nought ; 

God  may  do  bote  of  bale  that  is  now  i-wrought." 
Than  sptik  the  goode  knight,  sik  ther  he  lay, 
"  Boote  of  bale  God  may  seiide,  I  wot  it  is  no  nay; 
But  I  byseke  you,  knightes,  for  the  love  of  me, 
Goth  arid  dresseth  my  lond  among  my  sones  thre. 
And,  sires,  for  the  love  of  God,  deleth  hem  nat  amys, 
And  forgetith  nat  Gamelyn,  my  yonge  sone  that  is. 
Taketh  heed  to  that  on,  as  wel  as  to  that  other  ; 
Selde  ye  see  ony  eyr  helpen  his  brother."  40 

Tho  leete  they  the  knight  lyen  that  was  nought  in 

hele, 

And  wenten  in  to  counseil  his  londes  for  to  dele  ; 
For  to  delen  hern  alle  to  oon,  that  was  her  thought, 
And  for  Gamelyn  was  yongest,  he  schuld  have  nought. 
Al  the  lond  that  ther  was  they  dalteii  it  in  two, 
And  leeten  Gamelyn  the  yonge  withoute  lond  go, 
And  ech  of  hem  seyde  to  other  ful  lowde, 
His  bretheren  might  geve  him    lond  whan  he    good 

cowde. 

Whan  they  hadde  deled  the  lond  at  here  wille, 
They  come  ageiri  to  the  knight  ther  he  lay  fulstille.  50 
And  tolden  him  anon  right  how  they  hadden  wrought ; 
And  the  knight  there  he  lay  liked  it  right  nought. 
Than  seyde  the  knight,  "  1  sware  by  seynt  Martyn, 
For  al  that  ye  have  y-doon  yit  is  the  lond  myn  ; 
For  Goddes  love,  neyhebours,  stondeth  alle  stiij' 
And  1  wil  dele  my  lond  after  my  wille. 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN,  1-(J 


Johan,  myn  eldeste  sone,  schal  have  plowes  fyvc, 
That  was  my  fadres  heritage  whil  he  was  on  lyve  ; 
And  my  myddeleste  sone  fyf  plowes  of  lond, 
That  I  halp  for  to  gete  with  my  right  hond  ;  60 

And  al  myn  other  purchas  of  londes  and  leedes 
That  I  byquethe  Gamelyn,  and  alle  my  goode  steedes. 
And  I  byseke  yow,  goode  men,  that  lawe   conne  of 

londe, 

For  Gamelynes  love,  that  my  queste  stonde." 
Thus  dalte  the  knight  his  lond  by  his  day, 
Right  on  his  deth  bed  sik  ther  he  lay  ; 
And  sone  aftirward  he  lay  stoon  stille, 
And  deyde  whan  tyme  com,  as  it  was  Cristes  wille. 
And  anon  as  he  was  deed,  and  under  gras  i-grave, 
Sone  the  elder  brother  gyled  the  yonge  knave ;          70 
He  took  into  his  hond  his  lond  and  his  leede, 
And  Gamelyn  himselfe  to  clothen  and  to  feede. 
He  clothed  him  and  fed  him  yvel  and  eek  wrothe, 
And  leet  his  londes  for-fare  and  his  houses  bothe, 
His  parkes  and  his  woodes,  and  dede  nothing  wel, 
And  seththen  he  it  abought  on  his  faire  fel. 
So  longe  was  Gamelyn  in  his  brotheres  halle, 
For  the  strengest  of  good  wil  they  doutiden  him  alle  , 
Ther  was  non  therinne  nowther  yong  ne  olde 
That  wolde  wraththe  Gamelyn,  were  he  never  so  bolde. 
Gamelyn  stood  on  a  day  in  his  brotheres  yerde,         81 
And  bygan  with  his  hond  to  handled  his  berde  ; 
He  thought  on  his  londes  that  layen  unsawe, 
And  his  faire  okes  that  doun  were  i-drawe  ; 
His  parkes  were  i-broken,  and  his  deer  byreeved  j 
Of  alle  his  goode  steedes  noon  was  him  byleved  ; 
His  howses  were  unhilid  and  ful  yvel  dight. 
Tho  thoughte  Gamelyn  it  wente  nought  aright. 
Afterward  cam  his  brother  walkynge  thare, 
And  seyde  to  Gamelyn,  "  Is  our  mete  yare  ?  "  00 

Tho  wraththed  him  Gamelyn,  and  swor  by  Goddea 

book, 
"  Thou  schalt  go  bake  thiself,  I  wil  nought  be  thf 

cook." 

"  How  ?  brother  Gamelyn,  how  answerest  thou  now  ? 
Thou  spake  never  such  a  word  as  thou  dost  now." 
"  By  my  faith,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  li  now  me  thinketh 

deede, 

57.  plmces  fijve.  A  plough  of  land  was  as  much  as  could  be  ploughed  witli 
one  plough.  It  was  iu  the  middle  ages  a  common  mode  of  estimating  landed 
property. 

61.  anil  leedes.  i.  e.  and  bondmen  ;  the  portion  of  tbe  population  whi  :1> 
was  bought  and  Bold  with  the  land. 

0 


130  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Of  alle  the  harmes  that  I  have  I  tok  never  ar  heede. 
My  parkes  ben  to-broken,  and  my  deer  byreved, 
Of  myri  armure  and  my  steedes  nought  is  me  bileved  ; 
Al  that  my  fader  me  byquath  al  goth  to  schame. 
And  therfor  have  thou  Goddes  curs,  brother,  by  tl.y 

name."  101 

Then  byspak  his  brother,  that  rape  was  of  reea, 
"  Stond  stille,  gadelyng,  and  hold  right  thy  pees  ; 
Thow  schalt  be  fayn  for  to  have  tny  mete  and  thj 

wede  ; 

What  spekest  thou,  Gamelyn,  of  lond  other  of  leed<2  ?  " 
Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn,  the  child  that  was  ying, 
"  Cristes  curs  mot  he  have  that  clepeth  me  gadelyng  I 
I  am  no  worse  gadelyng,  ne  no  worse  wight, 
But  born  of  a  lady,  and  geten  of  a  knight." 
Ne  durst  he  nat  to  Gamelyn  ner  a  foote  go, 
But  clepide  to  him  his  men,  and  seyde  to  hem  tho,  110 
"  Goth  and  beteth  this  boy,  and  reveth  him  his  wyt, 
And  lat  him  leren  another  tyme  to  answer?  rue  bet." 
Thanne  seyde  the  child,  yonge  Gamelyn, 
"  Cristes  curs  mot  thou  have,  brother  art  thou  myn  ; 
And  if  J  schal  algate  be  beten  anon, 
Cristes  curs  mot  thou  have,  but  thou  be  that  oon." 
And  anon  his  brother  in  that  grete  hete 
Made  his  men  to  fette  staves  Gamelyn  to  bete. 
Whan  that  everich  of  hem  a  staf  had  i-nome, 
Gamelyn  was  war  anon  tho  lie  seigh  hem  come  j     120 
Tho  Gamelyn  seyh  hem  come,  he  loked  over  al, 
And  was  war  of  a  pestel  stood  under  a  wal ; 
Gamelyn  was  light  of  foot  and  tliider  gan  he  lepe, 
And  drof  alle  his  brotheres  men  right  on  an  hepe. 
He  loked  as  a  wilde  lyoun,  and  leyde  on  good  woon  ; 
Tho  his  brother  say  that,  he  bigan  to  goon  ; 
He  lley  up  intil  a  loft,  and  schette  the  dore  fast. 
Thus  Gamelyn  with  the  pestel  made  hem  alle  agast. 
Some  for  Gamely nes  love  and  some  for  his  eyghe, 
Alle  they  drowe  by  halves,  tho  he  gan  to  pleygne.  13C 
"What!    how  now  ?"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  evei  mot  yi 

thee  ! 

Wil  ye  bygynne  contek,  and  so  sone  flee  ?  " 
Gamelyn  sought  his  brother,  winder  he  was  flowe, 
And  saugh  wher  he  loked  out  at  a  wyndowe. 
"  Brother,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  «om  a  litel  ner, 
And  I  wil  teche  the  a  play  atto  bokeler." 
His  brother  him  answerde,  aiiv.1  swor  by  seynt  llycheri 
"  Whil  the  pestel  is  in  thin  houd,  I  wil  come  no  neer : 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  131 


B'-o+h^r,  I  wil  make  thy  pees,  I  swere  by  Cristes  ore  ; 
Oast  away  tne  pestel,  and  wraththe  the  nornore."  140 
"i  tnoi  iieeue/'   sayde   Gamelyn,   "wraththe  me  at 


For  thou  wclde  make  thy  men  to  breke  myne  boones, 

Jfe  had  I  hadde  mayn  and  might  in  myn  iirmes, 

To  liave  i-put  hem   fro  me,  he   wolde   have  do  me 

harmes." 
"Gamelyn,"   sayde   his   brother,    "be    thou   nought 

•wroth, 

For  to  seen  the  have  harm  it  were  me  right  loth  ; 
I  ne  dide  it  nought,  brother,  but  for  a  fondyng, 
For  to  loken  or  thou  were  strong  and  art  so  ying." 
"  Com-adoun  than  to  me,  and  graunto  me  my  bone. 
Of  thing  I  wil  the  aske,  and  weschul  saught  sorie."  150 
Doun  than  cam  his  brother,  that  fykil  was  and  felle, 
And  was  swithe  sore  agast  of  the  pestelle. 
He  seyde,  "  Brother  Gamelyn,  aske  mo  thy  boone, 
And  loke  thou  me  blame  but  I  graunte  sone." 
Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  Brother,  i-wys, 
And  we  schulle  ben  at  oon,  thou  most  me  graunte  this, 
Al  that  my  fader  me  byquath  wh51  he  was  on  lyve, 
Thou  most  do  me  it  have,  gif  we  schul  nat  stryve." 
"  That  schalt  thou  have,  Gamelyi>,  I  swore  by  Cristes 

ore  !  160 

Al  that  thi  fader  the  byquath,  thongh  thou  woldest 

have  more  ; 

Thy  lond,  that  lyth  lave,  ful  wel  it  so.hal  be  sowe, 
And  thyn  howses  reysed  up,  that  ben  leyd  so  low.' 
Thus  seyde  the  knight  to  Gamelyn  with  mowthe, 
And  thought  eek  of  falsnes,  as  he  wel  couthe. 
The   knight   thought   on   tresoun,   and    Gamelyn   on 

noon, 
And  went  and  kist  his  brother,  and  than  they  were  at 

oon. 

Alias  !  yonge  Gamelyn,  nothing  he  ne  wiste 
With  which  a  false  tresoun  his  brother  him  kiste. 
Ir'theth,  and  lestneth,  and  holdeth  your  tonge, 
And  ye  schul  heere  talkyng  of  Gamelyn  the  yonge. 
Thet  was  ther  bysiden  cryed  a  wrastlyng,  \1\ 

And  therfor  ther  was  sette  up  a  ram  and  a  ryng  j 
And  Gamelyn  was  in  good  wil  to  wende  therto, 
For  to  preven  his  might  what  lie  cowthe  do. 
'  Brother,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  by  seynt  Richer, 
Thou  most  lene  me  to  riyght  a  litel  courser 

127.  a  ram.    See  before,  the  general  prologue,  1.  600. 


182  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  is  freisch  to  the  spore,  on  for  to  ryde  ; 

I  most  on  an  erande,  a  litel  her  byside." 

"  By  God  !  "  seyd  his  brother,  "  of  steedes  in  my  stalle 

Gro  and  chese  the  the  best,  and  spare  noil  of  alle,     180 

Of  steedes  or  of  coursers  that  stonden  hem  bisyde  ; 

And  tel  me,  goode  brother,  whider  thou  wolt  ryde 

"  Her  byside,  brother,  is  cryed  a  wrastlyng, 

And  therfor  schal  be  set  up  a  ram  arid  a  ryng  ; 

Moche  worschip  it  were,  brother,  to  us  alle, 

Might  I  the   ram  and  the  rvng  brvng  home  to  this 

halle." 

A  steede  ther  was  sadeled  smertely  and  skeet ; 
Gamelyn  did  a  paire  spores  fast  on  his  feet, 
He  set  his  foot  in  the  styrop,  the  steede  he  bystrood, 
And  toward  the  wrastelyng  the  yonge  child  rood.    190 
Tho  Gamelyn  the  yonge  was  ride  out  at  the  gate, 
The  fals  knight  his  brother  lokked  it  after  thate, 
And  bysoughte  Jhesu  Crist  that  is  heven  kyng 
He  mighte  breke  his  nekke  in  that  wrastlyng. 
As  sone  as  Gamelyn  com  ther  the  place  was, 
He  lighte  doun  of  his  steede,  and  stood  on  the  gras, 
And  ther  he  herd  a  frankeleyn  wayloway  syng, 
And  bigan  bitterly  his  hondes  for  to  wryng. 
"  Goode  man,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  why  makestow  this 

fare?  199 

Is  ther  no  man  that  may  you  helpeout  of  this  care  ?  " 
"Alias!"    seyde   this   frankeleyn,    "that   ever   was  1 

bore  ! 

For  tweye  stalworthe  sones  I  wene  that  I  have  lore  ; 
A  champioun  is  in  the  place,  that  hath  i- wrought  me 

sorwe, 
For  he   hath   slayn   my  two  sones,  but  if  God  hem 

borwe. 

I  wold  geve  ten  pound,  by  Jhesu  Crist  !  and  more, 
With  the  none?  I  fand  a  man  to  handil  him  sore." 
"  Goode  man,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  wilt  thou  wel  doon, 
Hold  myn  hors,  whil  my  man  draweth  «f  my  schoou, 
And  help  my  man  to  kepe  my  clothes  and  my  steede, 
And  I  wil  into  place  go,  to  loke  if  I  may  speede."     210 
"  By  God  I  "  sayde  the  frankeleyn,  "  anon  it  schal  be 

doon  ; 

1  wil  myself  be  thy  man,  to  drawen  of  thy  schoon, 
And  wende  thou  into  the  place,  Jhesu  Crist  the  speede  ! 
And  drede  riot  of  thy  clothes,  nor  of  thy  goode  steede.' 

Barfoot  and  ungert  Gamelyn  in  cam, 
Alle  that  weren  in  the  place  heede  of  him  they  nam, 
How  he  durst  auntre  him  of  him  to  doon  his  might 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.          133 

That  was  so  doughty  chainpionn  in  wrastlyrig  and  in 

fight. 

Up  sterte  the  champioun  raply  and  anoon, 
Toward  yonge  Gamelyn  he  bigan  to  goon,  220 

And  sayde,  "  Who  is  thy  fader  and  who  is  thy  sire  ? 
For  sothe  thou  art  a  gret  fool,  that  thou  come  hire.  ' 
Gamelyn  answerde  the  champioun  tho, 
"  Thou  knewe  wel  my  fader  whil  he  couthe  go, 
Whiles  he  was  on  Jyve,  by  seint  Martyn! 
Sir  Johan  of  Boundys  was  his  name,  and  I  Gamelyu 
"  Felaw,"  seyde  the  champioun,  "  al  so  mot  1  thryv*, 
I  knew  wel  thy  fader,  whil  he  was  on  the  lyve  ; 
And  thiself,  Gamelyn,  I  wil  that  thou  it  heere, 
WhiLthou  were  a  yong  boy  a  nioche  schrewe   thou 

were."  230 

Than  seyde  Gamelyn,  and  swor  by  Cristes  ore, 
"  Now  I  am  older  woxe,  thou  schalt  me  fynd  a  more." 
"  Be  God  !  "  sayde  the  champioun,   "  welcome  mote 

thou  be ! 

Come  thou  ones  in  myn  hond,  schalt  thou  never  the." 
It  was  wel  withinne  the  night,  and  the  moone  schon, 
Whan  Gamelyn  and  the  champioun  togider   gon  to 

goon. 
The   champioun  caste  tornes   to  Gamelyn   that   was 

prest, 

And  Gamelyn  stood  stille,  and  bad  him  doon  his  best. 
Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn  to  the  champioun, 
"  Thou  art  fast  aboute  to  brynge  me  adoun  ; 
Now  I  have  i-proved  many  tornes  of  thyne,  240 

Thow  most,"  he  seyde,  "  proven  on  or  tuo  of  myne." 
Gamelyn  to  the  champioun  yede  smartly  anon, 
Of  alle  the  tornes  that  he  cowthe  he  schewed  him  but 

oon, 

And  kasthim  on  the  left  syde,  thatthre  ribbes  to-brak 
And  therto  his  oon  arm,  that  gaf  a  gret  crah. 
Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn  smertly  anoon, 
"  Schal  it  be  holde  for  a  cast,  or  elles  for  m»'  a  ?  " 
"  By  God,"  seyd  the  champioun,  "  whether  t>  at  it  "^ee. 
He  that  comes  ones  in  thin  handschal  he  n    VT  thee!  " 
Than  seyde  the  frankeleyn,  that  had  his  so'.e«  there, 
"  Blessed   be   thou,   Gamelyn,   that    ever     iliou    boro 

were  !  "  251 

The  frank  leyn  seyd  to  the  champioun,  c/  him  stood 

him  noon  eye, 

"This  is  yonge  Gamelyn  that  t  inghte  the  Jr.s  pleye." 
Agein   answerd    the   champioun,    that   liv.ed    notliinp 

welle, 


134         '  TEE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

"  He  is  a  lither  mayster,  and  his  pley  is  right  felle  ; 
Sith  I  wrastled  first,  it  is  i-go  ful  yore, 
But  I  was  nevere  my  lyf  handled  so  sore." 
Gamelyn  stood  in  the  place  allone  withoute  serk, 
And  seyd,  "  If  ther  be  eny  mo,  lat  hem  come  to  werk  ; 
The  cliampioun  that  peyned  him  to  werke  so  sore,  260 
It  semeth  by  his  continaunee  that  he  wil  nomore.' 
Gamelyn  in  the  place  stood  as  stille  as  stoon, 
For  to  abyde  wrastelyng,  but  ther  com  noon  ; 
Ther  was  noon  with  Gamelyn  wolde  wrastle  more, 
For  he  handled  the  chanipioun  so  wonderly  sore. 
Two  gentilmen  ther  were  yemede  the  place, 
Comen  to  Gamelyn,  God  geve  him  goode  grace! 
And  sayde   to   hem,    "  Do   on   thyn  hosen   and   thy 

schoon, 

For  sothe  at  this  tyme  this  feire  is  i-doon." 
And  than  seyde  Gamelyn,  "So  rnotl  wel  fare, 
I  have  nought  yet  halvendel  sold  up  my  ware."        270 
Tho  seyde  the  champioun,  "  So  brouk  I  my  sweere, 
He  is  a  fool  that  therof  beyeth,  thou  sellest  it  so  deere." 
Tho  sayde  the  frankeleyn  that  was  in  rnoche  care. 
"  Felaw,"  he  seyde,  "  why  lakkest  thou  his  ware? 
By  seynt  Jame  in  Galys,  that  many  man  hath  sought, 
Yet  it  is  to  good  cheep  that  ttiou  hast  i-bought." 
Tho  that  wardeynes  were  of  that  wrastlyng, 
Come  and  broughte  Gamelyn  the  ram  and  the  ryng, 
And  seyden,  "  Have,  Gamelyn,  the  ryng  and  the  ram, 
For  the  best  wrasteler  that  ever  here  cam."  280 

Thus  wan  Gamelyn  the  ram  and  the  ryng, 
And  weiite  with  moche  joye  home  in  the  mornyng. 
His  brother  seih  wlier  he  cam  with  the  grete,  rowte, 
And  bad  schitte  the  gate,  and  holde  him  withoute. 
The  porter  of  his  lord  was  ful  sore  agast, 
And  stert  anon  to  the  gate   and  lokked  it  fast. 

Now  litheth,  and  lestneth,  bothe  yong  and  olde, 
And  ye  schul  heere  gameii  of  Gamelyn  the  bolde, 
Gamelyn  come  therto  for  to  have  comen  in, 
And  tharine  was  it  i-schet  faste  with  a  pyn  ; 
Than  seyde  Gamelyn,  ''  Porter,  undo  the  yate. 
For  many  good  mannes  sone  stondeth  therate.          290 
Than  answerd  the  porter,  and  swor  by  Goddes  berde, 
"'Thow  ne  schalt,  Gamelyn,  come  into  this  yerde." 
"  Thow  lixt,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  so  browke  I  my  chyn  1  " 
He  smot  the  wyket  with  his  foot,  and  brak  awey  the 


The  porter  seyh  tho  it  might  no  better  be, 
He  sette  foot  on  erthe,  and  fast  bigaii  to  flee. 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  135 

"Byiny  faith,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "that  travail  is  i-lore, 
For  I  am  of  foot  as  lighte  as  thou,  though  thow  had- 

dest  swore." 

Gamelyn  overtook  the  porter,  and  his  teene  wrak, 
And  gert  him  in  the  nekke,  that  the  bori  to-brak,     300 
And  took  him  by  that  oon  arm,  and  threw  him  in  a 

welle, 

Seven  fadmen  it  was  deep,  as  I  have  herd  telle. 
Whan  Gamelyn  the  yonge  thus  hadde  pleyd  his  play, 
Alle  that  in  the  yerde  were  drewen  hem  away  ; 
They    dredden    him    ful    sore,    for    werkes    that    he 

wroughte, 

And  for  the  faire  company  that  he  tbider  broughte. 
Gamelyn  yede  to  the  gate,  and  leet  it  up  wyde  ; 
He  leet  in  alle  manor  men  that  gon  in  wold  or  ryde, 
And  seyde,  •'  Ye  be  welcome  withouten  eny  greeve, 
For  we  wiln  be  maistres  heer,  and  aske  no  man  leve. 
Yestirday  I  lefte,"  seyde  yonge  Gamelyn,  311 

"  In  my  brother  seller  fyve  tonne  of  wyn  ; 
I  wil  not  that  this  compaignye  parten  a-twynne, 
And  ye  wil  doon  after  me,  whil  eny  sope  is  thrynne  ; 
And  if  my  brother  grucche,  or  make  fonl  cheere, 
Other  for  speuse  of  mete  or  drynk  that  we  spenden 

heere, 

I  am  oure  catour,  and  bere  oure  aller  purs, 
Ue  schal  have  for  his  grucchyng  seint  Maries  curs. 
My  brother  is  a  nyggoun,  I  swer  by  Cristes  ore,         319 
And  we  wil  spende  largely  that  L>e  hath  spared  yore  ; 
And  who  that  maketh  grucchyng  that  we  here  d'welle, 
He  schal  to  the  porter  into  the  draw-welle." 
Seven  dayes  and  seven  nyght  Gamelyn  held  his  feste, 
With  moche  myrth  and  solas  that  was  ther   and  no 

cheste ; 

In  a  litel  toret  his  brother  lay  i-steke, 
And  sey  hem  wasten  his  good,  but  durst  he  not  speke. 
Erly  on  a  mornyng  on  the  eighte  day 
The  gestes  come  to  Gamelyn  and  wolds  gon  here  way. 
"  Lordes,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  ''  will  ye  so  hye  ? 
Al  the  wyn  is  not  yet  y-dronke,  so  brouk  I  myn  ye." 
Gamelyn  in  his  herte  was  he  ful  wo,  331 

Whan  his  gestes  took  her  leve  from  him  for  to  go  ; 
He  wold  they  had  lenger  abide,  and  they  seyde  t.ay, 
But  bitaughte  Gamelyn  God,  and  good  day. 
Thus  made  Gamelyn  his  fest,  and  brought  it  we)  to 

ende, 

And  after  his  gestys  took  leve  to  wende. 
Litheth,  and  lestneth,  and  holdeth  you  re  tonge, 


136  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  ye  sehul  heere  gamen  of  Gamelyn  the  yonge  ; 

Herkneth,  lordynges,  and  lesteneth  aright, 

Whan  alle  the  gestes  were  goon  how  Gamelyn    was 

dight  340 

Al  the  whil  that  Gamelyn  heeld  his  mangerye, 
His  brother  thought  on   him  be  wreke  with  his  treo- 

cherie. 

Tho  Gamelyns  gestes  were  riden  and  i-goon, 
Gamelyn  stood  allone,  frendes  had  he  noon  ; 
Tho  after  ful  soone  withinne  a  litel  stounde, 
Gamelyn  was  i-take  and  ful  hard  i-bounde. 
Forth  com  the  fals  knight  out  of  the  selle^r, 
To  Gamelyn  his  brother  he  yede  ful  neer, 
And  sayde  to  Gamelyn,  "  Who  made  the  so  bold 
For  to  stroye  my  stoor  of  myn  houshold  ?  "  350 

"  Brother,"    seyde   Garnelyn,    "  wraththe    the    right 

nought, 

For  it  is  many  day  i-gon  siththen  it  was  bought ; 
For,  brother,  thou  hast  i-had,  by  seyrit  Richer, 
Of  fiftene  plowes  of  lond  this  sixtene  yer, 
And  of  alle  the  beestes  thou  hast  forth  bred, 
That  my  fader  me  biquath  on  his  deth  bed  ; 
Of  al  this  sixtene  yeer  I  geve  the  the  prow 
For  the  mete  and  the   drynk  that  we  have  spended 

now." 

Thanne  seyde  the  fals  knyght,  evel  mot  he  the, 
"  Herkne,  brother  Gamelyn,  what  I  wol  geve  the  ;  360 
For  of  my  body,  brother,  geten  heir  have  I  noon. 
I  wil  make  the  myn  heir,  I  swere  by  seint  Johan." 
"  Par  ma  foy  !  "  sayd  Gamelyn,  "  and  if  it  so  be, 
And  thou  thenke  as  thou  seyst,  God  yelde  it  the  1  " 
Nothing  wiste  Gamelyn  of  his  brotheres  gylo  ; 
Therfore  he  him  bigyled  in  a  litel  while. 
"  Gamelyn,''  seyde  he,  "  o  thing  I  the  telle  ; 
Tho  thou  threwe  my  porter  in  the  draw-welle, 
1  swor  in  that  wraththe,  and  in  that  grete  moot, 
That  thou  scliuldest  be  bounde  bothe  hand  and  foo*  ; 
Therfore  I  the  biseche,  brother  Gamelyn,  371 

Lat  rne  nought  be  forsworn,  as  brother  art  thou  myn  j 
Lat  me  bynde  the  now  bothe  hand  and  feet, 
For  to  holde  myn  avow,  as  I  the  biheet." 
"  Brother,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  al  so  mot  I  the . 
Thou  schalt  not  be  forsworen  for  the  love  of  me  " 
Tho  made  they  Gamelyn  to  sitte,  might  he  nat  stoude, 
Tyl  they  had  him  bounde  bothe  foot  and  honde. 
The  fals  knight  his  brother  of  Gamelyn  was  agabt, 
And  sent  aftir  feteres  to  fetereu  him  i'abt.  383 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELY N.  137 

His  brother  made  lesynges  on  him  ther  he  stood. 

And  told  hem  that  conien  in  that  Gamely n  was  wood, 

Gamelyn  stood  to  a  post  bounden  in  the  halle, 

Tho  that  comen  in  ther  loked  on  him  alle. 

Ever  stood  Gamelyn  even  upright ; 

.But  mete  no  drynk  had  he  non  neither  day  ne  night. 

Than  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  Brother,  by  myn  hals, 

Now  1  have  aspied  thou  art  a  party  fals  ; 

Had  I  wist  that  tresoun  that  thou  haddest  y-founde, 

1  wolde  have  geve  the  strokes  or  1  had  be  bounde  !  " 

Gamelyn  stood  bounden  stille  as  eny  stoon  ;  391 

Two  dayes  and  two  nightes  mete  had  he  noon. 

Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn,  that  stood  y-bounde  stronge, 

'•'  Adam  spenser,  me  thinkth  I  faste  to  longe  ; 

Adam  spenser,  now  I  bysech  the, 

For  the  mochel  lovo  my  fader  loved  the, 

i'f  thou  may  come  to  the  keyes,  lese  me  out  of  bond, 

A.nd  1  wil  parte  with  the  of  my  free  lond." 

Thanne  seyde  Adam,  that  was  the  spencer, 

••  1  have  served  thy  brother  this  sixtene  veer,  400 

If  1  leete  the  goon  out  of  this  bour, 

lie  wolde  say  afterward  I  were  a  traytour." 

"  Adam,''  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  so  brouk  I  myn  hals  ! 

Thou  schalt  fynde  my  brother  atte  laste  fals  ; 

Therfor,  brother  Adam,  louse  me  out  of  bond, 

And  1  wil  parte  with  the  of  my  free  lond." 

"  Up  swich  a  forward,"  seyd  Adam,  "  i-wys, 

I  wil  do  therto  al  that  in  me  is." 

"  Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  al  so  mot  I  the, 

I  wol  hold  the  covenant,  and  thou  wil  me."  41C 

Anon  as  Adames  lord  to  bedde  was  i-goon, 

Adam  took  the  keyes,  and  leet  Gamelyn  out  anoon  j 

Jle  unlokked  Gamelyn  bothe  hand  and  feet. 

In  hope  of  avauncemeiit  that  he  him  byheet. 

Than  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  Thanked  be  Goddes  sonde  I 

]N'ow  1  am  loosed  bothe  foot  and  honde  ; 

Had  1  now  eten  and  clroriken  aright, 

Tlier  is  noon  in  this  housschulde  bynde  me  this  night." 

A' him  took  Gamelyn,  as  stille  as  ony  stoon, 

And  ladde  him  into  spence  rapely  and  anon,  420 

And  .sette  him  to  soper  right  in  a  prive  stede, 

And  bad  him  do  gladly,  and  Gamelyn  so  dede. 

420.  spence.  Tho  spence,  or,  according  to  the  original  French  form  of  the 
»  -ril, ,  f/f.syji'Hct',  wai  tin;  closet  or  room  in  convents  and  hirge  housos  whera 
t».«  victuals,  wine,  ami  plate  wore  lucked  up  ;  and  the  person  who  had  tha 
rl-.arjic  of  it  w.-is  called  the  speiicer,  or  the  dcisjicHcvi-.  llcnce  originatod  tw« 
.-•.MI. a  Hi  family  iiiimes. 


138  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Anon  as  Gamelyn  hadde  eten  wel  and  fyn, 

And  therto  y-drorike  wel  of  the  rede  wyn, 

"  Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  what  is  now  thy  reed  ? 

Wher  I  go  to  my  brother  and  girde  of  his  heed  ?" 

"  Gamelyn,"  seyd  Adam,  "  it  schal  not  be  so, 

can  teche  the  a  reecl  that  is  worth  the  two. 

wot  wel  for  sothe  that  this  is  no  nay, 
We  schul  have  a  mangery  right  on  Sonday ;  430 

Abbotes  and  priours  many  heer  schal  be, 
And  other  men  of  holy  chirche,  as  I  telle  the  ; 
Thow  schalt  stonde  up  by  the  post  as  thou  were  hond. 

fast, 

And  I  schal  leve  hem  unloke,  awey  thou  may  hem  cast. 
Whan  that  they  have  eten  and  waisschen  here  hondes, 
Thou  schalt  biseke  hem  alle  to  bryng  the  out  of 

bondes ; 

And  if  they  wille  borwe  the,  that  were  good  game, 
Then  were  thou  out  of  prisoun,  and  I  out  of  blame  ; 
And  if  everich  of  hem  say  unto  us  nay, 
I  schal  do  another  thing,  I  swere  by  this  day  !  440 

Thou  schalt  have  a  good  staf  and  I  wil  have  another, 
And   Cristes   curs  have    that  oon    that    faileth   that 

other !  " 

"  Ye,  for  Gode  ! "  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  I  say  it  for  me, 
If  I  fayle  on  my  syde,  yvel  mot  I  the  ! 
If  we  schul  algate  assoile  hem  of  here  synne. 
Warne  me,  brother  Adam,  whan  I  schal  bygynne." 
"  Gamelyn."  seyde  Adam,  "by  seynte  Charite, 
I  \\  il  warne  the  byforn  Avhan  that  it  schal  be  ; 
Whan  I  twynk  on  the,  loke  for  to  goon,  449 

And  cast  awey  the  feteres,  and  come  to  me  anoon." 
"  Adam,"  seide  Gamelyn,  "  blessed  be  thy  bones  ! 
That  is  a  good  counsel!  gevyng  for  the  nones  ', 
If  they  werne  me  thanne  to  brynge  me  out  of  bendes, 
I  Tvol  sette  goode  strokes  right  on  here  lendes." 
Tho  the  Sonday  was  i-come,  and  folk  to  the  feste, 
Faire  they  were  welcomed  bothe  lest  and  meste  ; 
And  ever  as  thej  atte  halle  dore  comeii  in, 
Tney  caste  their  eye  on  yonge  Gamelyn. 
The  fals  knight  his  brother,  ful  of  trechery, 
Alle  the  gestes  that  ther  were  atte  mangery,  46U 

Of  Gamelyn  his  brother  he  tolde  hem  with  mouthe 
Al  the  harm  and  the  schame  that  he  telle  coathe. 
Tho  they  were  served  of  messes  tuo  or  thre, 
Thau  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  How  serve  ye  me  ? 
It  is  nought  wel  served,  by  God  that  al  made  ! 
That  I  sytte  fastyng,  and  other  men  make  glade." 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  139 

The  fals  knight  his  brother,  ther  that  he  stood, 
Tolde  alle  his  gestes  that  Gamelyn  was  wood  ; 
And  Gamelyn  stood  stille,  and  answerde  nought 
But  Adaines  wordes  he  held  in  his  thought.  470 

Tho  Gamelyn  gari  speke  dolfully  withal  le 
To  the  gret  lordes  that  saten  in  the  halle  : 
"  Lordes,"  he  seyde,  "for  Cristes  passioun, 
Helpeth  brynge  Gamelyri  out  of  prisoun.", 
Than  seyde  an  abbot,  sorwe  on  his  cheeke  I 
"  He  schal  have  Cristes  curs  and  seynte  Afaries  f.eka. 
That  the  out  of  prisoun  beggeth  other  borwe, 
But  ever  worthe  hem  wel  that  doth  the  nioche  sorwa.*' 
After  that  abbot  than  spak  another, 
"1  wold   thin  heed   were  of,   though   thou   were   my 
brother !  480 

Alle  that  the  borwe,  foule  mot  hem  falle  1  " 
Thus  they  seyde  alle  that  were  in  the  halle. 
Than  seyde  a  priour,  yvel  mot  he  thryve  I 
"  It  is  moche  skathe,  boy,  that  thou  art  on  lyve." 
"  Ow,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  so  brouk  I  my  bon! 
Now  I  have  aspyed  that  freendes  have  I  non. 
Cursed  mot  he  worthe  bothe  fleisch  and  blood 
That  ever  do  priour  or  abbot  oriy  good  !  " 
Adam  the  spencer  took  up  the  cloth,  489 

And  loked  on  Gamelyn,  and  say  that  he  was  wroth ; 
Adam  on  the  pantrye  litel  he  thought, 
But  tuo  goode  staves  to  halle  dore  he  brought. 
Adam  loked  on  Gamelyn,  and  he  was  war  anoon, 
And  cast  awey  the  feteres,  and  he  bigan  to  goon  : 
Tho  he  com  to  Adam,  he  took  that  oo  staf, 
And  bygan  to  worche,  and  goode  strokes  gaf. 
Gamelyn  cam  into  the  halle,  and  the  spencer  bothe, 
And  loked  hem  aboute,  as  they  had  be  wrothe  ; 
Gamelyn  sprengeth  holy-water  with  an  oken  spire, 
That  some  that  stoode  upright  fel  in  the  fire.  50C 

Ther  was  no  lewede  man  that  in  the  hallo  stood, 
That  wolde  do  Gamelyn  eny  thing  but  good, 
But  stoode  besyde,  and  leet  hem  bothe  werche, 
For  they  hadde  no  rewthe  of  men  of  holy  cherche  j 
Abbot  or  priour,  monk  or  chanoun, 
That  Gamelyn  overtok,  anon  they  yeeden  doun. 
Ther  was  non  of  hem  alle  that  with  his  staf  mette, 
That  he  made  him  overthrowe  and  quyt  him  his  dette. 
*'  Gamelyn,"  seyde  Adam,  "  for  seynte  Charite, 
Pay  large  lyverey,  for  the  love  of  me,  510 

And  I  wil  kepe  the  dore,  so  ever  here  I  masse  ' 
Er  they  ben  assoyled  there  shan  noon  passe." 


140  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Dowt  the  nought,"   seyde  Gamelyn,  "  whii  we  ben 

in  feere, 

Kep  thou  wel  the  dore,  and  I  wol  werche  heere  j 
Stere  the,  good  Adam,  and  lat  ther  noon  flee, 
And  we  schul  telle  largely  how  many  ther  be." 
"  Gamelyn,"  seyde  Adam,  "  do  hem  but  good  ; 
They  ben  men  of  holy  chirche,  draw  of  hem  no  blood, 
Save  wel  the  croune,  and  do  hem  non  harmes, 
But  brek  bothe  her  legges  and  siththen  here  armes." 
Thus  Gamelyn  arid  Adam  wroughte  7'ight  fast,          52i 
And  pleyden  with  the  monkes,  and  made  hem  agast. 
Tliider  they  come  rydyng  jolily  with  swaynes, 
But  horn  agen  they  were  i-lad  in  cartes  and  in  waynes. 
Tho  they  hadden  al  y-don,  than  seyde  a  gray  i'rere, 
"  Alias  !  sire  abbot,  what  did  we  now  heere  ? 
Tho  that  comen  hider,  it  wa    a  colde  reed, 
Us  hadde  ben  better  at  home  with  water  and  breed." 
Whil  Gamelyn  made  ordres  of  monkes  and  frere, 
Ever  stood  his  brother,  and  made  foul  chere  ;  530 

Gamelyn  up  with  his  staff,  that  he  wel  knew, 
And  gert  him  in  the  nekke,  that  he  overthrew  ; 
A  litel  above  the  girdel  the  rigge-bon  to-barst ; 
And  sette  him  in  the  feteres  ther  he  sat  arst. 
"  Sitte  ther,  brother,"  sayde  Gamelyn, 
"  For  to  colyn  thy  blood,  as  I  dide  inyn." 
As  swithe  as  they  hadde  i-wroken  hem  on  here  foon, 
They  askeden  watir  and  wisschen  anoon, 
What  some  for  here  love  and  some  for  awe, 
Alle  the  servantz  served  hem  of  the  beste  lawe.          540 
The  scherreve  was  thennes  but  a  fyve  myle, 
And  al  was  y-told  him  in  a  litel  while, 
How  Gamelyn  and  Adam  had  doon  a  sory  rees, 
Bounden  and  i- wounded  men  agein  the  kinges  pees  j 
Tho  bigan  sone  strif  for  to  wake, 
And  the  scherref  aboute  cast  Gamelyn  for  to  take. 

Now  lytheth  and  lestneth.  so  God  gif  you  goode  fyn 
And  ye  schul  heere  good  game  of  yonge  Gamelyn. 
Four  and  twenty  yonge  men,  that  heelden  hem   fui 

bolde, 

Come  to  the  schirref  arid  seyde  that  they  wolde         u50 
Gamelyn  arid  Adam  fetten  away. 
The  scherref  gaf  hem  leve,  soth  as  I  you  say  ; 
They  hyeden  faste,  wold  they  nought  bylynne, 
Til  they  come  to  the  gate,  ther  Gamelyn  was  iuL.,\ 
They  knokked  on  The  gate,  the  porter  was  ny, 
And  loked  out  at  an  hoi,  as  man  that  was  ily. 
The  porter  hadde  byholde  hem  a  litel  while, 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  141 

He  loved  wel  Gamelyn,  and  was  adrad  of  gyle, 

And  asked  h»m  withoute  what  was  here  wille.          560 

For  al  the  grete  company  thanne  spak  but  oon, 

"  Undo  the  gate,  porter,  and  lat  us  in  goon." 

Than  seyde  the  porter,  "  So  brouke  I  my  chyn, 

fa  schul  sey  your  erand  er  ye  comen  in." 

"  Sey  to  Gamelyn  and  Adam,  if  here  wille  be, 

We  wil  speke  with  hem  wordes  two  or  thre." 

"  Pelaw,"  seyde  the  porter,  "  stond  there  stille, 

And  I  wil  wende  to  Gamelyn  to  witen  his  wille." 

lu  went  the  porter  to  Gamelyn  anoon,  563 

And  seyde,  "  Sir,  I  warne  you  her  ben  come  your  toon, 

The  scherreves  m eyrie  ben  atte  gate, 

For  to-  take  you  bothe,  schul  ye  riat  skape." 

"  Porter,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  so  moot  I  wel  the  ! 

I  wil  allowe  the  thy  wordes  whan  I  my  tyme  se  ; 

Go  agayn  to  the  gate,  and  dwel  with  hem  a  while, 

And  thou  schalt  se  right  sone,  porter,  a  gyle. 

Adam,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  looke  the  to  goon  ; 

We  have  foomen  atte  gate,  and  frendes  never  oon  ; 

It  ben  the  schirrefes  men,  that  hider  ben  i-come, 

They  ben  swore  to-gidere  that  we  schul  be  notue."  580 

"  Gamelyn,"  seyde  Adam,  "  hye  the  right  blyve, 

Arid  if  I  faile  the  this  day,  evel  mot  I  thryve  1 

And  we  schul  so  welcome  the  scherreves  men, 

That  some   of  hem   schul  make   here   beddes   in  th« 

den." 

Atte  posteme  gate  Gamelyn  out  went, 
And  a  good  cart  staf  in  his  hand  he  hente  '} 
Adam  hente  sone  another  gret  staf, 
For  to  helpe  Gamelyn,  and  goode  strokes  gaf. 
Adam  felde  tweyne,  and  Gamelyn  felde  thre, 
The  other  setten  feet  on  erthe,  and  bygonne  fle.        5dO 
"  What  ?  "  seyde  Adam,  "  so  ever  here  I  masse  ! 
I  have  a  draught  of  good  wyn,  dryrik  er  ye  passe." 
"  Nay,  by  God  1  "  sayde  they,  "  thy  dryrik  is  not  good, 
It  wolde  make  marines  brayne  to  lien  in  his  hood." 
Gamelyn  stood  stille,  and  loked  him  aboute, 
And  seih  the  scherreve  come  with  a  gret  route. 
"Adam,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  my  reed  is  now  this, 
Abide  we  no  lenger,  lest  we  fare  arnys  : 
£  rede  that  we  to  wode  goon  ar  that  we  be  founde, 
Better  is  us  ther  loose  than  in  town  y-bounde."         60,) 
Adam  took  by  the  hond  yonge  Gumelyn  ; 
And  everich  of  hem  tuo  drank  a  draught  of  wyn, 
And  after  took  her  courst'rs  and  weiiteri  her  way. 
Tho  fond  the  schexreve  nest,  but  non  ay. 


142  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES 

The  scherreve  lighte  adoun,  and  went  into  the  halle, 
And  fond  the  lord  y-fetered  faste  withalle. 
The  scherreve  unfetered  him  sone,  and  that  anoon, 
And  sent  after  a  leche  to  hele  his  rigge-boon. 

Lete  we  now  this  fals  knight  lyen  in  his  care, 
And  talke  we  of  Gamelyn,  and  loke  how  he  fare.      610 
Gamelyn  into  the  woode  stalkede  stille, 
And  Adam  the  spenser  liked  ful  ylle  ; 
Adam  swor  to  Gamelyn,  by  seynt  Richer, 
'   Now  I  see  it  is  mery  to  be  a  spencer, 
That  lever  me  were  keyes  for  to  bere, 
Than  walken  in  this  wilde  woode  my  clothes  to  tere." 
"Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "dismaye  the  right  nought j 
Many  good  mannes  child  in  care  is  i-brought." 
And  as  they  stoode  talkyng  bothen  in  feere, 
Adam  herd  talkyng  of  men,  and  neyh  him  thought  thei 
were.  621 

Tho  Gamelyn  under  the  woode  loked  aright, 
Sevene  score  of  yonge  men  he  saugh  wel  adight ; 
Alle  satte  atte  mete  in  compas  aboute. 
"  Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  now  have  we  no  doute, 
After  bale  cometh  boote,  thurgh  grace  of  God  almight ; 
Me  thynketh  of  mete  and  of  drynk  that  I  have  a  sight." 
Adam  lokede  tho  under  woode  bowgh, 
And  whan  he  seyh  mete  he  was  glad  ynough  ; 
For  he  hopede  to  God  for  to  have  his  deel, 
And  he  was  sore  alonged  after  a  good  meel.  63U 

As  he  seyde  that  word,  the  mayster  outlawe 
Saugh  Gamelyn  and  Adam  under  woode  schawe. 
"  Yonge  men,"  seyde  the  maister,  "  by  the  goode  roode, 
I  am  war  of  gestes,  God  send  us  non  but  goode  ; 
Yonder  ben  tuo  yonge  men,  wonder  wel  adight, 
And  paraventure  ther  ben  mo,  who  so  loked  aright. 
Ariseth  up,  ye  yonge  men,  and  fetteth  hem  to  me  ; 
It  is  good  that  we  AVI  ten  what  men  they  bee." 
Up  ther  sterten  sovene  fro  the  dyner, 
And  metten  with  Gamelyn  and  Adam  spenser.          649 
Whan  they  were  neyh  hem,  than  seyde  that  oon, 
'  Yeldeth  up,  yonge  men,  your  bowes  and  your  floon.' 
Thanne  seyde  Gamelyn,  that  yong  was  of  elde, 
"  Moche  sorwe  mot  he  have  that  to  you  hem  yelde ! 
I  curse  non  other,  but  right  myselve, 
They  ye  fette  to  yow  fyve,  thanne  ye  be  twelve." 
Tho  they  herde  by  his  word  that  might  was  in  his  arm; 
Ther  was  none  of  hem  alle  that  wolde  do  him  harm, 
But  sayd  unto  Gamelyn,  inyldely  and  stille,  649 

"Com  afore  our  maister,  and  sey  to  him  thy  wille." 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  143 


"  Yonge  men,"  sayde  Gamely n,  "  by  your  lowte, 

What  man  is  your  nmister  that  ye  with  be  ?" 

Alle  they  answerde  withoute  lesyng, 

"  Oure  uiaister  is  i-crouned  of  outlawed  kyng." 

"  Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  go  we  in  Cristes  name  j 

He  may  neyther  mete  nor  drynk  werne  us  for  scharne. 

If  that  he  be  heende,  and  come  of  gentil  blood, 

lie  wol  geve  us  mete   and  drynk,  and  doori  us   son. 

good." 
"  By  seynt  jame  !  "  seyd  Adam,  "  what  harm  that  ] 

gete, 

I  wil  auntre  to  the  dore  that  I  hadde  mete."  CGO 

Gamelyn  and  Adam  wente  forth  in  feere, 
Andjthey  grette  the  maister  that  they  founde  there. 
Than  seide  the  maister,  kyng  of  outlawes, 
"  What  seeke  ye,  yonge  men,  under  woode  schawes  ?  ' 
Gamelyn  answerde  the  kyng  with  his  croune, 
"  He  moste  needes  walke  in  woode,  that  may  not  walke 

in  towne. 

Sire,  we  walke  not  heer  noon  harm  for  to  do, 
But  if  we  meete  with  a  deer,  to  scheete  therto, 
As  men  that  ben  hungry,  and  mow  no  mete  fyndo, 
And  ben  harde  bystad  under  woode  lynde."  670 

Of  Gamelynes  wordes  the  maister  hadde  routhe, 
And  seyde,    "Ye  schal   have   yuougli,  liave  G  xi  my 

trouUie." 

He  bad  hem  sitte  ther  adoun,  for  to  take  reste  ; 
And  bad  hem  ete  and  drynke,  and  that  of  the  I  este. 
As  they  sete  and  eeten  and  dronke  wel  and  fyn, 
Than  seyd  that  oon  to  that  other,  "  This  is  Gan^elyn.'' 
Tho  was  the  maister  outlawe  into  counseil  nomj, 
And  told  how  it  was  Gamelyn  that  thider  was  i  come. 
Anon  as  he  herde  how  it  was  bifalle, 
He  made  him  maister  under  him  over  hem  alle.         68$ 
Within  the  thridde  wyke  him  com  ty.lyng, 
To  the  maister  outlawe  that  tho  was  her  kyng, 
That  he  schulde  come  horn,  his  pees  was  i-made  ; 
And  of  that  goode  tydyng  he  was  tlio  ful  glad. 
Tho  seyde  he  to  his  yonge  men.  soth  for  to  telle, 
"  Me  ben  comen  tydynges  I  may  no  lenger  dwelle,1 
Tho  was  Gan.elyn  anon,  withoute  taryyng, 
Made  maister  outla\ve,  and  crouned  her  kyng. 

Tlio  was  Gamelyn  crouned  kyng  of  outlawes, 
And  walked  a  while  under  woode  schawes.  091' 

The  fals  knight  his  brother  was  scherreve  and  sire, 
And  leet  his  brother  endite  for  hate  and  for  ire. 
Tho  were  his  bonde-men  sory  and  nothing  glade, 


144  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Whan  Gamelyn  her  lord  wolves-heed  was  cryed  and 

inade ; 

And  sente  out  of  his  men  wher  they  might  him  fynde, 
For  to  seke  Gamelyn  under  woode  lynde. 
To  telle  him  tydynges  how  the  wynd  was  went, 
And  al  his  good  reved,  and  his  men  schent. 
Wi  an  they  had  him  founde,  on  knees  they  hem  gerte. 
And  adoun  with  here  hood,  and  here  lord  grette  :    700 
"  Sire,  \vraththe  you  nought,  for  the  goode  roode, 
For  we  have  brought  yon  tvdynges,  but  they  be  nat 

goode . 

Now  is  thy  brother  scherreve,  and  hath  the  baillye, 
And  he  hath  endited  the,  and  wolves-heed  doth  the 

crie." 

"  Alias!  "  seyde  Gamelyn,  "that  ever  I  was  so  slak 
That  I  ne  hadde  broke  his  nekke,  tho  his  rigge  brak  ! 
Goth,  greteth  hem  wel,  myn  housbondes  and  wyl, 
I  wol  ben  atte  nexte  schire,  have  God  my  lyf." 
Gamelyn  came  wel  redy  to  the  nexte  schire, 
And  ther  was  his  brother  bothe  lord  arid  sire.  710 

Gamelyn  com  boldelych  into  the  moot  halle, 
And  put  adoun  his  hood  among  the  lordes  alle  : 
"  God  save  you  alle,  lordynges,  that  now  here  be  I 
But  broke-bak  scherreve,  evel  mot  thou  the  ! 
Why  hast  thou  do  me  that  schame  and  vilonye, 
For  to  late  endite  me,  and  wolves-heed  me  crye?" 
Tho  thought  the  fals  knight  for  to  ben  awreke, 
And  leet  take  Gamelyn,  most  he  nomore  speke  ; 
Might  ther  be  nornore  grace,  but  Gamelyn  atte  last 
Was  cast  into  prisoun  and  fetered  ful  fast.  720 

Gamelyn  hath  a  brother  that  highte  sir  Ote, 
As  good  a  knight  and  heende  as  mighte  gon  on  foot*. 
Anon  ther  yede  a  messager  to  that  goode  knight, 
And  told  him  altogidere  how  Gamelyn  was  dight. 
An  on  as  sire  Ote  herde  how  Gamelyn  was  adight, 
He  was  wonder  sory,  was  he  nothing  light, 
And  leet  sadle  a  steede,  and  the  way  he  nam, 

634.  icotvex-hced.  This  was  the  ancient  Saxon  formula  of  outlawry,  and 
«*ems  to  have  been  literally  equivalent  to  setting  the  man's  head  at  the  sam<! 
*timate  as  a  wolf's  head.  In  the  laws  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  it  is  said  of 
*  person  who  has  fled  justice,  '•  Si  vero  postea  repertus  fuerit,  et  relineri  po»- 
»i: ,  vivus  r--gi  reddatur,  vel  eaput  ejus,  si  se  defenderit.  Lupinum  enim  gerit 
caput,  quod  anglice  wuljts-heo/od  dicitur.  El  haec  cat  kr  conimunis  et  gen- 
eraiis  de  omnrbiiB  utlagatis." 

6!K  hi*  men  schi  nt.  When  a  man's  lands  were  poized  by  force  or  unjustly, 
the  peasaiitfy  on  the  estau-s  \vi;re  exposed  to  lie  plundered  and  ill-treated  by 
the  followers  (>f  the  intruder. 

7nl.  in-nilith.  I/IIH  nininlii.  Tho  iiK-ssen^i'rsof  ill  tidings, however  innocent 
tli  'iiisclvcs.  often  exporielieed  all  ti:e  lir.-t  aii^ci' of  the  person  to  whom  they 
c-arrird  tin-in,  in  the  n •.'<•*  of  fi-ndnl  power-  Hence  the  bearer  ol  ill  news  geii' 
•rally  began  by  deprecating  the  wiatb  o!'  the  pei'Sun  addressed. 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GA  UELYN.      145 

And  to  his  tweyne  bretheren  anon  right  he  cam. 

"  Sire,"  seyde  sire  Ote  to  the  scherreve  tho,  729 

"  We  ben  but  thre  bretheren,  schul  we  never  be  mo, 

And  thou  hast  y-priso«ed  the  best  of  us  alle  ; 

Swich  another  brother  yvel  mot  him  bifalle  !  " 

"  Sire  Ote,"  seide  the  fals  knight,  "  lat  be  thi  curs  ; 

By  God,  for  thy  wordes  he  schal  fare  the  wurs ; 

To  the  kynges  prisoun  anon  he  is  y-nome, 

And  ther  he  schal  abyde  til  the  justice  come." 

"  Parde  !  "  seyde  sir  Ote,  "  better  it  schal  be, 

I  bidde  him  to  maympris,  that  thou  graunt  him  me, 

Til  the  nexte  sittyng  of  delyveraunce, 

And  thanne  lat  Gamelyn  staride  to  his  chaunce."     740 

"  Brother,  in  swich  a  forthward  take  him  to  the ; 

And  by  thi  fader  soule,  that  the  bygat  and  me, 

But  if  he  be  redy  whan  the  justice  sitte, 

Thou  schalt  bere  the  juggement  for  al  thi  grete  witte." 

"  I  graunte  wel,"  seide  sir  Ote,  "  that  it  so  be. 

Let  delyver  him  anon,  and  talc  him  to  me." 

Tho  was  Gramelyn  delyvered  to  sire  Ote  his  brother; 

And  that  night  dwelleden  that  on  with  that  other. 

On  the  morn  seyde  Gamelyn  to  sire  Oto  the  heende, 

"Brother,"    he  seide,     "I  moot  for   sothe  from   the 

wende,  750 

To  loke  how  my  yonge  men  leden  here  lyf, 
Whether  they  lyven  in  joie  or  elles  in  stryf." 
"  Be  God  1  "  seyde  sire  Ote,  "  that  is  a  cold  reed, 
Now  I  see  that  al  the  cark  schal  fallen  on  myn  heed  ; 
For    whan    the    justice    sitte,   and    thou   be   nought 

y-founde, 

I  schal  anon  be  take,  and  in  thy  stede  i-bounde." 
"  Brother,"  sayde  Gamelyn,  "  dismaye  the  nought, 
For   by  seint  Jarne  in   Gales,  that   many   man  hatb 

sought, 

If  that  God  almighty  hold  my  lyf  and  witt, 
1  wil  be  ther  redy  whan  the  justice  sitt."  780 

Than  seide  sir  Ote  to  Gamelyn,   "  God  schilde  the  fro 

schame ; 
Com   whan    thou  seest    tyme,   and   bring   us   out    yi 

blame." 

Litheth,  and  lestneth,  and  holdeth  you  stille, 
And  ye  schul  here  how  Gamelyn  had  al  his  wille. 
Gamelyn  wente  agein  under  woode  rys, 
And  fond  there  pleying  yonge  men  of  prys. 
Tho  was  yonge  Gamelyn  glad  and  blithe  ynough, 
Whan  he  fond  his  merv  men  under  woode  bough. 

10 


146  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Gamelyn  and  his  men  talked  in  feere, 
And  they  hadde  good  game  here  maister  to  heere  ;  770 
They  tolden  him  of  aventures  that  they  hadde  founde, 
And    Gamelyn  hem    tolde    agein   how    he    was    fast 

i-bounde. 

Whil  Gamelyn  was  outlawed,  had  he  no  cors  ; 
There  was  no  man  that  for  him  ferde  the  wore, 
But  abbotes  and  priours,  monk  and  chanoun  ; 
On  hem  left  he  nothing  whan  he  might  hern  nom. 
Whil  Gamelyn  and  his  men  made  merthes  ry  ve, 
The  fals  knight  his  brother,  yvel  mot  he  thryve ! 
For  he  was  fast  about  bothe  day  and  other, 
For  to  hyre  the  quest,  to  hangen  his  brother.  780 

Gamelyn  stood  on  a  day,  and  as  he  biheeld 
The  woodes  and  the  schawes  in  the  wilde  feeld, 
He  thought  on  his  brother  how  he  him  beheet 
That  he  wolde  be  redy  whan  the  justice  seet  ; 
He  thoughte  wel  that  he  wolde,  withoute  delay, 
Come  afore  the  justice  to  kepen  his  day, 
And  seide  to  his  yonge  men,  "  Dighteth  you  yare, 
For  whan  the  justice  sit,  v/e  moote  be  thare, 
For  I  am  under  borwe  til  that  I  come, 
And  my  brother  for  me  to  prisoun  schal  be  nome."  790 
"  By  seint  Jame  !  "  seyde  his  yonge   men,   "  and  tkou 

rede  therto, 

Ordeyne  how  it  schal  be,  and  it  schal  be  do." 
Whil  Gamelyn  was  comyng  ther  the  justice  sat, 
The  fals  knight  his  brother,  forgat  he  nat  that, 
To  huyre  the  men  on  his  quest  to  hangen  his  brother  ; 
Though  he  hadde  nought  that  oon,  he  wolde  have  that 

other. 

Tho  cam  Gamelyn  fro  under  woode  rys, 
And  broughte  with  him  his  yonge  men  of  prys. 

"  I  se  wel,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  the  justice  is  sette  ; 
Go  aforn,  Adam,  and  loke  how  it  spette."  80'. 

Adam  went  into  the  halle,  arid  loked  aJ  aboute, 
He  seyh  there  stoude  lordes  gret  and  stoute, 
And  sir  Ote  his  brother  fetered  wel  fast : 
Tho  went  Adam  out  of  halle,  as  he  were  agast 
Adam  said  to  Gaiuelyn,  and  to  Lis  fe!a\vs  alle, 
"  Sir  Ote  stant  i-fetered  in  the  moot  halle." 
"  Yonge  men,"  seide  Gamelyn,  "  this  ye  heeren  alia  ; 
Sire  Ote  stant  i-fetered  in  the  moot  halle. 
If  God  gif  us  grace  wel  for  to  doo, 

776.  albotit      Gainehii'-  enmity  to  abbou.  ami  monks  is  entirely  in  char- 
ftctftr  witb  the  cCoblu  Hooa  ballad*  ;  ir  wot  the  fueling  of  the  age. 


THE  COKES  TALE  OF  GAMELYN.  147 

He  schal  it  abegge  that  broughte  him  thertoo."         810 

Thanne  sayde  Adam,  that  lokkes  hadde  hore, 

"  Cristes  curs  most  he  have  that  him  bond  so  sore  I 

And  thou  wilt,  Gamelyn,  do  after  my  red, 

Ther  is  noon  in  the  halle  schall  bere  awey  his  heed." 

"  Adam,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  we  wiln  nought  don  so, 

We  wil  slee  the  giltyf,  and  lat  the  other  go. 

I  wil  into  the  halle,  and  with  the  justice  speke  j 

On  hem  that  ben  gultyf  I  wil  ben  awreke. 

Lat  non  skape  at  the  dore ;  take,  yonge  men,  yeme  ; 

For  I  wil  be  justice  this  day  domes  to  deme.  820 

God  spede  me  this  day  at  my  newe  werk  ! 

Adam,  com  on  with  me,  for  thou  schalt  be  my  cleik." 

His  men,  answereden  him  arid  bad  him  doon  his  best, 

"And  if  thou  to  us  have  neede,  thou  schalt  fynde  ua 

prest ; 

We  wiln  stande  with  the,  whil  that  we  may  dure, 
And  but  we  werke  manly,  pay  us  non  hure." 
"  Yonge  men,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  so  mot  I  wel  the  ! 
As  trusty  a  maister  ye  schal  fynde  of  me." 
Right  there  the  justice  sat  in  the  halle, 
In  wente  Gamelyn  amonges  hem  alle.  830 

Gamelyn  leet  unfetere  his  brother  out  of  beende. 
Thanne  seyde  sire  Ote,  his  brother  that  was  heende, 
"Thou  haddest  almost,  Gamelyn,  dwelled  to  longe, 
For  the  quest  is  oute  on  me,  that  I  schulde  honge." 
"Brother,"   seyde   Gamelyn,    "so  God   gif  me    good 

rest ! 
This  day  they  schuln    ben  hanged  that  ben  on  thy 

quest ; 

And  the  justice  bothe  that  is  jugges  man, 
And  the  scherreve  bothe,  thurgh  him  it  bigan." 
Than  seyde  Gamelyn  to  the  justise, 
"  Now  is  thy  power  y-don,  thou  most  nedes  arise  ;   840 
Thow  hast  geven  domes  that  ben  yvel  dight, 
I  wil  sitten  in  thy  sete,  and  dressen  hem  aright." 
The  justice  sat  stille,  and  roos  nought  anoon  ; 
And  Gamelyn  clevede  his  cheeke  boon  ; 
Gamelyn  took  him  in  his  arm,  and  no  more  spak, 
But  threw  him  over  the  barre,  and  his  arm  to-brak. 
Durste  uori  to  Gamelyn  seye  but  good, 
For-fered  of  the  company  that  withoute  stood. 
Gamelyn  sette  him  douu  in  the  justices  sete, 
And  sire  Ote  his  brother  by  him,  and  Adam  at  his 

feet.  850 

Whan  Gamelyn  was  i-set  in  the  justices  stede, 
Herkneth  of  a  bourde  that  Gamelyn  dede. 


148  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

He  leet  fetre  the  justice  and  his  fals  brother, 

And  dede  hem  come  to  the  barre,  that  oon  with  that 

other. 

Tho  Gamelyn  hadde  thus  y-doon,  had  he  no  rest, 
Til  he  had  enquered  who  was  on  the  quest 
For  to  derne  his  brother,  sir  Ote,  for  to  honge  ; 
Er  he  wiste  which  they  were  it  thoughte  ful  longe. 
But  as  sone  as  Gamelyn  wiste  wher  they  were, 
He  dede  hem  everichorie  fetere  in  feere,  860 

And  bringen  hem  to  the  barre,  and  sette  hem  in  rew?; 
"  By  my  faith  !  "  seyde  the  justice,  "  the  scherreve  is  a 

schrewe." 

Than  seyde  Gamelyn  to  the  justise, 
"  Thou  hast  y-geve  domes  of  the  wors  assise, 
And  the  twelve  sisours  that  weren  of  the  queste, 
They  schul  ben  hanged  this  day,  so  have  I  reste." 
Thanne  seide  the  scherreve  to  yonge  Gamelyn, 
"  Lord,  I  crie  the  mercy,  brother  art  thou  myn." 
"  Therfore,"  seyde  Gamelyn,  "  have  thou  Cristes  curs, 
For  and  thou  were  maister,  yit  I  schulde  have  wors." 
But  for  to  make  short  tale,  and  nought  to  tarie  longe, 
He  ordeyned  him  a  queste  of  his  men  so  stroiige  ;     872 
The  justice  and  the  scherreve  bothe  honged  hye, 
To  weyven  with  ropes  and  with  the  wyrid  drye ; 
And  the  twelve  sisours,  sorwe  have  that  rekke  ! 
Alle  they  were  hanged  faste  by  the  nekke. 
Thus  ended  the  fals  knight  with  his  treccherie, 
That  ever  had  i-lad  his  lyf  in  falsnes  and  folye  ; 
He  was  hanged  by  the  nek,  and  nought  by  the  purs, 
That  was  the  meede  that  he  had  for  his  fadres  curs. 
Sire  Ote  was  eldest,  and  Gamelyn  was  ying,  881 

They  wenten  with  here  freendes  even  to  the  kyng  ; 
They  made  pees  with  the  kyng  of  the  best  assise. 
The  kyng  loved  wel  sir  Ote  arid  made  him  a  justise. 
And  after  the  kyng  made  Gamelyn,  bothe  in  est  and 

west, 

Chef  justice  of  al  his  fre  forest ; 

Alle  his  wighte  yonge  men  the  kyng  forgaf  here  gilt, 
And  sitthen  in  good  office  the  kyng  hem  hath  i-pilt. 
Thus  wan  Gamelyn  his  lorid  and  his  leede, 
And   wrak   him   of  his   eneruys,  and   quyt  hem  here 

meede,  890 

And  sire  Ote  his  brother  made  him  his  heir, 
And  siththen  wedded  Gamelyn  a  wyf  bothe  good  and 

leyr; 

They  lyveden  togidere  whil  that  Crist  wolde, 
And  sithen  was  Gamelyn  graven  under  moolde. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  PROLOGS.  149 


And  so  schal  we  alle,  may  ther  no  man  fle  : 
God  bryng  us  to  the  joye  that  ever  schal  be  ! 

THE  MAIST   OF  LAWES  PROLOGS. 

OWRE  Hoste  sawh  that  the  brighte  sonne 
The  arke  of  his  artificial  day  hath  i-ronne 
The  fourthe  part,  of  half  an  hour  and  more  ; 
And  though  he  were  nat  depe  expert  in  lore, 
lie  wist  it  was  the  eightetene  day 
Of  April,  that  is  messanger  to  May  ; 
And  sawe  wel  that  the  schade  of  every  tree 
Was  in  the  lengthe  the  same  quantite 
That  was  the  body  erecte,  that  caused  it ; 
And  therfore  by  the  schadwe  he  took  his  wit,  4430 

That  Phebus,  which  that  schoon  so  fair  and  bright, 
Degrees  was  five  and  fourty  clombe  on  hight ; 
And  for  that  day,  as  in  that  latitude, 
It  was  ten  of  the  clokke,  he  gan  conclude  ; 
And  sodeynly  he  plight  his  hors  aboute. 
"  Lordynges,"  quod  he,  "  I  warne  you  al  the  route, 
The  fourthe  party  of  this  day  is  goon  ; 
Now,  for  the  love  of  God  and  of  seint  Jon, 
Leseth  no  tyme,  as  forthe  as  ye  may. 
Lordynges,  the  tyme  passeth  night  and  day,  4440 

And  stelith  fro  us,  what  pry vely  slepyng, 
And  what  thurgh  necligence  in  oure  wakyng, 
As  doth  the  streem,  that  torneth  never  agayn, 
Descendyng  fro  the  mounteyn  into  playn. 
Wel  can  Senek  and  many  philosopher 
Bywaylen  time,  more  than  gold  in  cofre. 
For  losse  of  catel  may  recovered  be, 
But  losse  of  tyme  schendeth  us,  quod  he. 
It  wil  nat  come  agayn,  withoute  drede, 
Nomore  than  wol  Malkyns  maydenhede,  4450 

Whan  sche  had  lost  it  in  hir  wantownesse. 
Let  us  nat  mowlen  thus  in  ydelnesse. 

"  Sir  Man  of  La  we,"  quod  he,  "  so  have  ye  bli.^se, 
Telle  us  a  tale  anon,  as  forward  ys. 
Ye  be  submitted  thurgh  your  fre  assent 
To  stonden  in  this  cas  at  my  juggeuient. 
Acquyteth  yow,  and  holdeth  youre  byheste  ; 

4425.  eightetene.  This  is  the  rending  in  which  the  MSB.  seem  mostly  tc 
agree.  The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  threttenthe.  Tyrwhitt  has  eights  and  twenty. 

4440.  pasteth.     Most  of  the  siss.  read  wasteth. 

4445.  Miilkyns  inaydenherie.  This  appears  to  have  beeii  a  proverbial  §aj' 
tug,  and  occurs  in  Pitrs  Ploughman. 


150  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Than  have  ye  doon  your  devour  atte  leste." 
"  Uost,"  quod  he,  "  depardeux,  1  assent ; 
To  breke  forward  is  nat  myn  eiite«t.  4480 

Byheste  is  dette,  and  I  wol  holde  fayn 
Al  my  byhest,  I  can  no  better  sayn. 
For  such  lawe  as  a  man  geveth  another  wight, 
He  schuld  himselve  usen  it  by  right. 
Thus  wol  oure  text :  but  natheles  certeyn 
I  can  right  now  non  other  tale  seyri, 
That  Chaucer,  they  he  can  but  lewedly 
On  metres  and  on  ryrnyng  craftely, 
Hath  seyd  hem  in  such  Englisch  as  he  can, 
Of  olde  tyme,  as  knoweth  many  man.  4470 

And  gif  he  have  nought  sayd  hem,  leeve  brother, 
In  o  bok,  he  hath  seyd  hem  in  another. 
For  he  hath  told  of  lovers  up  and  doun, 
Moo  than  Ovide  made  of  mencioun 
In  his  Epistelles,  that  ben  so  olde. 
What  schuld  I  tellen  hem,  syn  they  be  tolde  ? 
In  youthe  he  made  of  Ceys  and  Alcioun, 
And  siththe  hath  he  spoke  of  everychon 
These  noble  wyfes,  and  these  lovers  eeke, 
Who  so  wole  his  large  volume  seeke,  4480 

Cleped  the  seintes  legende  of  Cupide  j 
Ther  may  he  see  the  large  woundes  wyde 
Of  Lucresse,  and  of  Babiloun  Tysbee  ; 
The  sorwe  of  Dido  for  the  fals  Enee  ; 
The  tree  of  Philles  for  hir  Demephon  ; 
The  pleynt  of  Dyane  and  of  Ermyon, 
Of  Adrian,  and  of  Ysyphilee  ; 
The  barreyn  yle  Btondyng  in  the  see  ; 
The  dreyrit  Leandere  for  his  fayre  Erro  ; 
The  teeres  of  Eleyri,  and  eek  the  woo  4490 

Of  Bryxseyde,  arid  of  Ledomia  ; 
The  crueltc  of  the  queen  Medea, 
The  litel  children  hangyng  by  the  hals, 
For  thilke  Jason,  that  was  of  love  so  fals. 
O  Ypermystre,  Penollope,  and  Alceste, 
Youre  wyfhood  he  comendeth  with  the  beste. 
But  certeynly  no  worde  writeth  he 
Of  thilke  wikked  erisample  of  Canace, 

177.  Ceyi  and  Alcioun.    This  story  forms  the  introduction  to  the  Boke  oj 
th-    Duchesse. 

481.  Legende  of  Cupide.    This  is  the  poem  more  frequently  entitled  the 
Lt^/ende  of  good  women 

1486.  Dyane.     The  Ms.  Lansd.  reads  Dianyre,  which   Tyrwhitt   adopt*. 
TL«  readings  are  very  various,  and  not  easy  to  be  reconciled. 

M98.  Cantice.     This  and  the  story  of  Apollonitu  of  Tyre  are  told  in  (lower's 
io  Amantis,  whence  it  has  been  supposed  that  Chaucer  intended  her* 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  151 

That  lovnd  hir  owen  brother  synfully  ; 

On  wliiche  corsed  stories  I  seye  fy  ;  4500 

Or  elles  of  Tyro  Appoloneus, 

How  that  the  cursed  kyng  Anteochus 

Byreft  liis  doughter  of  hir  maydenhede, 

That  is  so  horrible  a  tale  for  to  reede, 

Whan  he  hir  threw  upon  the  painent. 

And  therfore  he  of  ful  avysement 

Wolde  never  wryte  in  non  of  his  sermouns 

Of  such  urikynde  abhoiniiiaciouns  ; 

Ne  I  wol  non  reherse,  if  that  I  may. 

But  of  my  tale  how  schal  I  do  this  day  ?  4510 

Me  were  loth  to  be  lykned  douteles 

To  Muses,  that  men  clepen  Pyerides, 

(Methamorphoseos  wot  what  I  mene); 

But  natheles  I  recche  nat  a  bene, 

They  I  come  after  him  with  hawe-ba.ke, 

I  speke  in  prose,  and  let  him  rymes  make.' 

And  with  that  word,  he  with  a  sobre  cheere 

Bygan  his  tale,  as  ye  schal  after  heere. 

THE    MAN    OF   LAWES    TALE. 

O  HATEFUL  harm,  condiciouii  of  povert,  4519 

With  thurst,  with  cold,  with  honger  so  confoundyd, 
To  asken  help  it  schameth  in  thin  hert, 
If  thou  non  aske,  with  neede  so  art  thou  woundyd, 
That  verray  neede  unwrappeth  al  thy  wounde  hyd  ; 
Maugre  thyn  heed  thou  most  for  indigence 
Or  stele,  or  begge,  or  borwe  thy  dispence. 

TLow  blamest  Crist,  and  seyst  ful  bitterly, 

to  blame  that  writer — a  notion  for  which  there  appears  to  be  no  good  founda- 
tion. The  story  of  Apollonius  was  very  popular  in  the  middle  ages,  and  was 
published  in  a  variety  of  forms. 

4512.  J'yfriiles.  "  Hu  rather  means,  I  think,  the  daughters  of  Pierus,  who 
contended  with  ihe  Muses,  and  were  changed  into  pies.  Ovid.  Metain.  1,  v." 
—  Tvrvhitt. 

'//i«  Man  of  Lanes  Tale.  This  tale  was  probably  taken  direct  from  a 
French  romance.  All  the  incidents  in  it  are  of  frequent  occurrence  in  me- 
dieval stories.  The  whole  story  is  found  in  Gower  ;  and  a  similar  story 
It'nr.s  the  plot  of  the  romance  of  Kmare  (printed  in  Kitson's  Metrical  1U> 
raises).  The  treachery  of  King  Alla's  mother  enters  into  the  French 
romance  of  the  Cftcraliir  au  cigne,  and  into  the  still  more  ancient  Anglo- 
Saxon  romance  of  King  Offa,  preserved  in  a  Latin  form  by  Matthew  Paris. 
It  is  also  found  in  the  italian  collection,  said  to  have  been  composed  in  K'.78, 
under  the  title  of  //  Pecoronc  di  scr  Giorainil  Fiortntinn  (an  imitatiuc  uf  the 
Decameron),  gipr.  x.  No.  1.  The  treason  of  the  knight  who  murders  ller- 
mengildo  is  an  incident  in  the  French  /toman  (It1,  la  I'iolttte  ;  and  in  the  Kng- 
lish  metrical  romance  of  Le  bone  Florence  of  Rome  (printed  in  Kitson's  collec- 
tion) ;  and  is  found  in  the  English  Gesta  Romrmorwn,  c.  69  (ed.  Madden), 
joined  in  the  latter  place  with  Constance's  adventure  with  the  steward.  It  ia 
also  found  in  Vincent  of  Beauvais,  and  other  writers.  Gower's  version  ap- 
pears to  be  taken  from  the  French  chronicle  of  Nicolas  Trivet,  Ms.  Arunde!, 
No.  56,  fol.  45  vo. 


152  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Ho  mysdeparteth  riches  temporal ; 

And  thyn  neyhebour  thou  wytes  synfully  ; 

And  seyst  thou  hast  to  litel,  and  he  hath  al. 

Parfay,  seystow,  som  tyine  he  rekne  schal,  4580 

Whan  that  his  tayl  schal  brennen  in  the  gleede, 

For  he  nought  helpeth  the  needful  in  his  neede. 

Herkneth  what  is  the  sentens  of  the  wyse, 
Bet  is  to  dye  than  have  indigence  ; 
Thy  selve  neyghebour  wol  the  despyse, 
If  thou  be  pore,  farwel  thy  reverence. 
Yet  of  the  wyse  man  tak  this  sentence, 
Alle  the  dayes  of  pore  men  be  wikke  ; 
Be  war  therfore  or  thou  come  to  that  prikke. 

If  thou  be  pore,  thy  brother  hateth  the,  4540 

And  alle  thy  frendes  fleeth  fro  the,  alias ! 
O  riche  marchaundz,  ful  of  wele  be  ye, 

0  noble  prudent  folk  as  in  this  cas, 
Youre  bagges  beth  nat  fuld  with  ambes  aas, 

But  with  sys  synk,  that  renneth  on  your  chaunee ; 
At  Crystemasse  wel  inery  may  ye  daunce. 

Ye  seeke  land  and  see  for  youre  wynnynges, 
As  wyse  folk  as  ye  knowe  alle  thastates 
Of  regnes,  ye  be  fadres  of  tydynges, 
Of  tales,  bothe  of  pees  and  of  debates.  4550 

1  were  right  now  of  tales  desolat, 

Nere  that  a  marchaunt,  gon  siththen  many  a  yere, 
Me  taught  a  tale,  which  ye  schal  after  heere. 

In  Surrie  dwelled  whilom  a  companye 
Of  chapmen  riche,  and  therto  sad  and  trewe, 
That  wyde  where  sent  her  spycerye, 
Clothes  of  gold,  and  satyn  riche  of  hewe. 
Her  chaffar  was  so  thrifty  and  so  newe, 
That  every  wight  had  deynte  to  chaffare 
With  hem,  and  eek  to  selle  hem  of  here  ware.         456C 

Now  fel  it,  that  the  maystres  of  that  sort 
Han  schapen  hem  to  Rome  for  to  wende, 
Were  it  for  chapmanhode  or  for  disport, 
Non  other  message  nolde  they  thider  sende, 
But  came  hemselfe  to  Rome,  this  is  the  ende  ; 
And  in  such  place  as  thought  hem  avauntage 
For  here  entent,  they  tooke  her  herburgage. 

Sojourned  have  these  marchauritz  in  the  toun 
A  certeyn  tyme,  as  fel  to  here  plesaunce. 

4534.  Bet  is  to  dye.    This  saying  of  Solomon  ifl  quoted  in  the  fio/wan  dt  la 
Sose,  as  cited  by  Tyrwhitt  : 

Mieui  vault  mourir  aue  pauvres  estres. 


TEE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  153 

But  so  bifell,  that  thexcellent  renoun  4570 

Of  themperoures  doughter  dame  Custaunce 
Reported  was,  with  every  circumstaunce, 
Unto  these  Snrrienz  iriarchauntz,  in  such  wyse 
Fro  day  to  day.  as  I  schal  you  devyse. 

This  was  the  comyn  voys  of  every  man  : 
"  Cure  emperour  of  Rome,  God  him  see  ! 
A  doughter  hath,  that,  sitli  the  world  bygan, 
To  rekne  as  wel  hir  goodnes  as  hir  bewte, 
Nas  never  such  another  as  was  sche. 
I  prey  to  God  hir  save  and  susteene,  4580 

And  wolde  sche  were  of  al  Europe  the  queene. 

"  In  hire  is  hye  bewte,  withoute  pryde  ; 
Yowthe,  withoute  grefhed  or  folye  ; 
To  alle  hire  werkes  vertu  is  hire  gyde  ; 
Humblesse  hath  slayne  in  hir  tyrrannye  ; 
Sche  is  myrour  of  alle  curtesye, 
Hir  herte  is  verrey  chambre  of  holynesse, 
Hir  hond  mynistre  of  fredom  and  almesse." 

And  al  this  voys  is  soth,  as  God  is  trewe. 
But  now  to  purpos  let  us  turne  agein  :  4590 

These  march  an  tz  have  don  fraught  here  schippes  newe, 
And  whan  they  have  this  blisful  mayde  seyn, 
Home  to  Surrey  be  they  went  agein, 
And  doon  here  rieedes,  as  they  have  don  yore, 
And  lyven  in  wele,  I  can  you  say  no  more. 

Now  fel  it,  that  these  marchauntz  stooden  in  grace 
Of  him  that  was  the  sowdan  of  Surrye. 
For  whan  they  come  fro  eny  straunge  place, 
He  wolde  of  his  benigne  curtesye 

Make  hem  good  chere,  and  busily  aspye  4600 

Tydynges  of  sondry  regnes,  for  to  lere 
The  wordes  that  they  mighte  seen  and  heere. 

Among  other  thinges  specially 
These  marchauntz  him  told  of  dame  Constaunce 
So  gret  noblesse,  in  ernest  so  ryally, 
That  this  sowdan  hath  caught  so  gret  plesaunce 
To  have  hir  figure  in  his  remembraunce, 
That  al  his  lust,  and  al  his  besy  cure, 
Wis  for  to  love  hir,  whiles  his  lyf  may  dure. 

Para  venture  in  thilke  large  booke,  4610 

Which  that  is  cleped  the  heven,  i-write  was 
With  sterres,  whan  that  he  his  burthe  took, 
That  he  for  love  schulde  have  his  deth,  alias  ! 
For  in  the  sterres,  clerere  then  is  glas, 

1614.  in  the  sterres.    See  before,  1.  2039.    Chaucer  seems  to  havo  had  in  hla 
eje  iu  the  following  stanza  a  passage  of  the  Mcqacosmus  of  Bernardus  Silve* 


154  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Is  wry  ten,  God  woot,  who  so  cowthe  it  rede, 
The  deth  of  every  man,  withouten  drede. 

In  sterres  many  a  wynter  therbyfore, 
Was  write  the  deth  of  Ector  and  Achilles, 
Of  Pompe,  Julius,  er  they  were  i-bore  ; 
The  stryf  of  Thebes,  and  of  Ercules,  4620 

Of  Sampson,  Turnus,  and  of  Socrates. 
The  deth  ;  but  mennes  wittes  ben  so  dulle, 
That  no  wight  can  wel  rede  it  at  the  fulle. 

T-.iS  sowdan  for  his  pryve  counseil  sent, 
And  schortly  of  this  mater  for  to  pace, 
He  hath  to  hem  declared  his  entent, 
Arid  seyd  hem  certeyn,  but  he  might  have  grace 
To  have  Constance  withinne  a  h'tel  space, 
He  nas  but  deed,  and  charged  hem  in  hyghe 
To  schapen  for  his  lyf  som  reinedye.  4630 

Dy  verse  men  divers  thinges  seyde, 
The  argumentes  casten  up  and  doun  j 
Many  a  subtyl  resoun  forth  they  leyden  ; 
They  spekyn  of  magike,  and  of  abusioun  ; 
But  fynally,  as  in  coiiclusioun, 
They  can  nought  seen  in  that  non  avauntage, 
Ne  in  non  other  wey,  save  in  mariage. 

Than  sawgli  they  therin  such  difficulte 
By  wey  of  resoun,  to  speke  it  al  playn, 
Bycause  that  ther  was  such  dyversite  4640 

Bitwen  here  botlie  lawes,  as  they  sayn, 
They  trowe  that  "  no  cristen  prince  wold  fayn 
Wedden  his  child  under  our  lawe  swete, 
That  us  was  taught  by  Mahoun  oure  prophete." 

And  he  answerde  :   "  Rather  than  I  lese 
Constance,  I  wol  be  cristen  douteles  ; 
1  moot  be  heres,  I  may  nori  other  cheese  ; 
1  pray  you  haldeth  your  arguments  in  pees, 
Saveth  my  lyf,  and  beth  nat  recheles. 

la-It,  a  rather  popular  Latin  poet  of  the  twelfth  century.    Some  of  thf*«  U-IM 
wf  quoted  in  the  margin  of  Ms.  Lansd. 

Preejacet  in  stellis  series,  quara  longior  sutas 

Explieet  et  spatiis  teinporin  ordo  Buis, 
Soeptra  Phoronei,  fratrum  discprdia  Thebis, 

Flamina  Phaethontis,  Deucalionis  aqu%. 
In  stellis  Coilri  paupertas,  coj>ia  Crossi, 

Inceslus  I'aridis,  Hippolyiique  pudor. 
In  stellis  Priami  species,  audacia  Tumi, 

Sensue  Ulyxeus,  Herculeusque  vi^or. 
In  stellis  pugil  est  Pollux,  et  navita  'i'yphis, 

Et  Cicero  rhetor,  et  geometra  Tliales. 
In  Btellis  lepiiluin  dictat  Maro,  Milo  ligurat, 

Kulgurat  in  Latia  nobi'.itate  Nero. 
Aetra  notat  Persin,  yKgyptus  par'.urit  artc«, 

Graicia  docta  legit,  prajlia  Uoiua  gerit. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  105 


Goth,  geteth  hire  that  hath  my  lyf  in  cure,  4tJ50 

For  in  this  wo  I  may  no  lenger  dure." 

What  needeth  gretter  dilatacioun  ? 
I  say,  by  tretys  and  ambassatrye, 
And  by  the  popes  mediacioun, 
And  al  the  chirche,  and  al  the  chyvalrye, 
That  in  destruccioun  of  mawmetrye, 
And  in  ericresse  of  Cristes  lawe  deere, 
They  ben  acordid,  as  ye  schal  after  heere^ 

How  that  the  soudan  and  his  baronage, 
And  alle  his  lieges  schuld  i-crystned  be,  4006 

And  he  schal  have  Constance  in  manage, 
And  certeyn  gold,  I  not  what  quantite, 
And'therfore  founden  they  suffisant  seurte. 
This  same  acord  was  sworn  on  every  syde  , 
Now,  fair  Constance,  almighty  God  the  guyde  ! 

Now  wolde  som  men  wayten,  as  I  gesse, 
That  I  schulde  tellen  al  the  purvyaunce, 
That  themperour  of  his  gret  noblesse 
Hath  schapen  for  his  doughter  dame  Constaunce. 
Wei  may  men  knowe  that  so  gret  ordynaunce        4670 
May  no  man  telle  in  so  litel  a  clause, 
As  was  arrayed  for  so  high  a  cause. 

Bisschops  ben  schapen  with  hir  for  to  wende, 
Lordes,  ladyes,  and  knightes  of  renoun, 
And  other  folk  ynowe,  this  is  the  ende. 
And  notefied  is  thurghout  the  toun, 
That  every  wight  with  gret  devocioun 
Schulde  preye  Crist,  that  he  this  mariage 
Receyve  in  gree,  and  spede  this  viage. 

The  day  is  come  of  hire  departyng,  -iW, 

(1  say  the  woful  day  that  than  is  come) 
That  ther  may  be  no  lenger  taryyng, 
But  forthe-ward  they  dresse  hem  alle  and  some. 
Constance,  that  with  sorvve  is  overcome, 
Ful  pale  arist,  arid  dresseth  hir  to  wende, 
For  wel  sche  saugh  ther  nas  non  other  ende. 

Alias  !  what  wonder  is  it  though  sche  wepte 
That  schal  be  sent  to  straunge  nacioun, 
Fro  freendes,  that  so  tenderly  hir  kepte, 
And  to  be  bounde  undur  subjeccioun  4P.80 

Of  oon  sche  knew  nat  his  condicioun  ? 
Housbondes  ben  al  goode,  and  han  be  yore  ; 
That  knowen  wyfes,  I  dar  say  no  more. 

"Fader,"    sche    seid,    "thy    wrecched    child    Con 

staunce, 
Thy  yonge  doughter  fostred  up  so  softe, 


156  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  ye,  my  mooder,  my  soverayn  plesaunce 
Over  al  thing,  outaken  Crist  on  lofte, 
Constaunce  your  child  hir  recomaundeth  of  te 
Unto  your  grace  ;  for  I  schal  into  Surrye, 
•  Ne  schal  I  never  see  you  more  with  ye.  4700 

"  Alias  !  unto  the  Barbre  nacioun 
I  most  anoon,  sethens  it  is  your  wille: 
But  Crist,  that  starf  for  our  redempcioun, 
So  geve  me  grace  his  hestes  to  fulfille, 
I,  wrecched  womman,  no  fors  they  I  spille  ! 
Woinmen  ben  born  to  thraldam  arid  penaunce, 
And  to  ben  under  mannes  governaunce." 

I  trowe  at  Troye  whan  Pirrus  brak  the  wal, 
Or  Yleon  that  brend  Thebes  the  citee, 
Ne  at  Rome  for  the  harme  thurgh  Hariibal,  4710 

That  Romayns  have  venquysshed  tymes  thre, 
Nas  herd  such  tender  wepyrig  for  pite, 
As  in  the  chambur  was  for  hir  partyng  ; 
But  forth  sche  moot,  whether  sche  weep  or  syng. 

O  firste  mevyng  cruel  firmament, 
With  thi  diurnal  swough  that  crowdest  ay, 
And  hurlest  al  fro  est  to  Occident, 
That  naturelly  wold  hold  another  way  ; 
Thyn  crowdyrig  sette  the  heven  in  such  array 
At  the  bygynnyng  of  this  fiers  viage,  4720 

That  cruel  Martz  hath  slayn  this  marriage. 

Infortunat  ascendent  tortuous, 
Of  which  the  lordes  helples  falle,  alias ! 
Out  of  his  angle  into  the  derkest  hous. 
O  Mariz  Attezere,  as  in  this  caas ; 
O  feble  moone,  unhappy  been  thi  paas, 
Thou  knettest  the  ther  thou  art  nat  receyved, 
Ther  thou  were  wel  fro  thermes  artow  weyved. 

Inprudent  emperour  of  Rome,  alias  ! 
Was  ther  no  philosopher  in  al  thy  toun  ?  4730 

Is  no  tyme  bet  than  other  in  such  caas '{ 
Of  viage  is  ther  noon  eleccioun, 

4715.  firste  mevyng.  The  following  note  is  written  in  the  margin  of  the 
I.anBd.  MB.  "  Undo  Tholomeus,  libro  primo,  capitulo  8  :  Primi  niotus  ccrli 
duo  sunt,  quorum  unus  est  qui  movet  totum  semper  ab  oriente  in  occidenteiu 
uno  modo  super  orbes,  etc.  Alter  vero  mot  IB  est  qui  movet  orbem  stellarum 
ourrentium  contra  motum  primum,  viz.  ab  occidente  in  orieiitem  super  alios 
duos  polos,  etc." 

4725.  O  Mariz  Attezere.  The  readings  of  the  MSS.  vary  much.  Tyrwhitt 
reads  O  Mars,  O  Atyzar.  I  have  followed  the  Harl.  Ms.  It  would  require  a 
deeper  knowledge  of  medieval  astrology  than  I  possess  to  correct  it  with  any 
certainty,  or  to  determine  if  it  need  correction. 

4732.  eleccioun.  The  marginal  note  in  the  Lnnsd.  Ms.  quoted  above,  adds, 
"Omnes  enim  sunt  pom.'ordati  quod  eluctiones  sint  debiles,  nisi  in  divitibus  ; 
habent  enim  isti,  L;/:et  debilitcntur  eorum  electiones,  radicem,  i.  e.  nativi- 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  157 

Nainly  to  folk  of  heigh  condicioun, 
Nought  whan  a  roote  is  of  birthe  i-knowe  ? 
Alias !  we  ben  to  lewed,  and  eek  to  slowe. 

To  schippe  is  brought  this  woful  faire  mavde 
Solempnely,  with  every  circumstaunce. 
"  Now  Jhesu  Crist  so  be  with  you,"  sche  sayde. 
Tl.er  nys  nonior,  but  farwel,  fair  Custaunce  ; 
Soho  peyneth  hire  to  make  good  contienaunce.        4740 
And  forth  I  lete  hire  sayle  in  this  manere, 
And  tome  1  wol  agein  to  my  matiere. 

The  moder  of  the  sowdan,  ful  of  vices, 
Aspyed  hath  hir  soiies  playn  entente, 
How  he  wol  lete  his  olde  sacrifices  ; 
And  right  anoon  sclie  for  hir  counseil  sent, 
And  they  ben  come,  to  knowe  what  sche  mem , 
And  whan  assembled  was  this  folk  in  fere, 
Sche  sette  hir  doun,  and  sayd  as  ye  schal  heere. 

'  Lordes,"  quod  sche,  "  ye  knowen  everichcn,      4750 
How  that  my  sone  in  poynt  is  for  to  lete 
The  holy  lawes  of  our  Alkaroun, 
Geven  by  Goddes  messangere  Makamete  ; 
But  oon  avow  to  grete  Grod  I  hete, 
The  lyf  schuld  rather  out  of  my  body  stert, 
Or  Makametes  law  go  out  of  myn  hert. 

"  What  schal  us  tyden  of  this  newe  lawe 
But  thraldam  to  oure  body  and  penaunce, 
And  afterward  in  helle  to  be  drawe, 
For  we  reneyed  Mahound  oure  creaunce  ?  4780 

But,  lordes,  wol  ye  maken  assuraunce, 
As  I  schal  say,  assentyng  to  my  lore  ? 
And  1  schal  make  us  sauf  for  evermore." 

They  sworen  and  assenten  every  man 
To  lyf  with  hir  and  dye,  and  by  hir  stonde  ; 
And  everich  in  the  beste  wise  he  can 
To  strengthen  hir  schal  all  his  freiides  fonde, 
And  sche  hath  emperise  take  on  honde, 
Which  ye  schul  heere  that  I  schal  devyse, 
And  to  hem  alle  sche  spak  in  this  wyse :  4770 

'  We  schul  first  feyne  ous  cristendom  to  take  ; 
(Jold  watir  schal  nat  grove  us  but  a  lite  ; 
And  I  schal  such  a  fest  and  revel  make, 

iAt«t  eorum  quae  confortant  omnem  planotara  debilem  in  itinere  :  h»c  pbi- 
losophus."  Tyrwhitt  gives  this  from  another  MS.  It  is  taken  from  the 
Liber  t'lectinntun  of  Zahel,  of  which  there  is  a  copy  ill  Ms.  llarl.  No.  80.  The 
above  passage  occurs  at  fol.  68  vo. 

4752.  Alkaroun.  The  Koran  was  translated  into  Latin  inthe!2tli  century, 
and  it  and  the  history  of  iu  author  Mohanu.i>_d  were  subject*  of  iutereitt  in 
itu.  West. 


158  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That,  as  I  trow,  I  schal  the  sowdan  quyte. 
For  though  his  wyf  be  cristned  never  so  white, 
Bche  schal  have  need  to  waissche  away  the  rede, 
They  sche  a  font  of  watir  with  hir  lede." 

O  sowdones,  root  of  iniquite, 
Virago  thou  Semyram  the  secounde  ; 
O  serpent  under  feminite,  4780 

Lyk  to  the  serpent  deep  in  helle  i-bounde ; 
O  feyned  womman,  alle  that  may  confounde 
Vertu  and  innocence,  thurgh  thy  malice, 
Is  bred  in  the,  as  nest  of  every  vice. 

O  Satan  envyous,  syn  thilke  day 
That  thou  were  chased  fro  oure  heritage, 
Wei  knewest  thou  to  wommen  the  olde  way. 
Thou  madest  Eve  to  bryng  us  in  servage, 
Thou  wolt  fordoon  this  cristen  mariage. 
Thyn  instrument  so  (weylaway  the  while  !)  4790 

Makestow  of  wominen  whan  thou  wolt  bygyle. 

This  sowdones,  whom  I  thus  blame  and  wary, 
Let  prively  hir  counseil  gon  his  way ; 
What  schuld  I  in  this  tale  lenger  tary  ? 
Sche  rideth  to  the  soudan  on  a  day, 
And  seyd  him,  that  sche  wold  reney  hir  lay, 
And  cristendam  of  prestes  handes  fonge, 
Repentyng  hir  sche  hethen  was  so  longe  ; 

Bysechyng  him  to  doon  hir  that  honour, 
That  sche  most  have  the  cristen  men  to  feste  ;         4800 
"  To  plesen  hem  I  wil  do  my  labour." 
The  sowdan  seith,  "  I  wol  do  at  your  heste," 
And  knelyng,  thanketh  hir  of  that  requeste  ; 
So  glad  he  was,  he  nyst  nat  what  to  seye. 
Sche  kyst  hir  sone,  and  horn  sche  goth  hir  weyo. 

Arryved  ben  the  cristen  folk  to  londe 
In  Surry,  with  a  gret  solempne  route, 
And  hastily  this  sowdan  sent  his  sonde, 
First  to  his  moder,  and  al  the  regne  aboute,  4810 

And  seyd,  his  wyf  was  comen  out  of  doute, 
And  preyeth  hir  for  to  ride  agein  the  queene, 
The  honour  of  his  regne  to  susteene. 

Gret  was  the  prees,  and  riche  was  tharray 
Of  Surrieris  and  llomayns  mette  in  feere. 
The  mooder  of  the  sowdan  riche  and  gay 
Receyved  hir  with  al  so  glad  a  cheere, 
As  eny  mooder  might  hir  doughter  deere  ; 
And  to  the  nexte  citee  ther  bysyde 
A  softe  paas  solempnely  thay  ryde. 

Nought  trow  I  the  triumphe  of  Julius,  4820 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  159 

Of  which  that  Lukan  inaketh  irioche  boat, 
Was  ryaller,  ne  more  curious, 
Than  was  thassemble  of  this  blisful  cost. 
But  this  scorpioun,  this  wikked  goost, 
The  sowdones,  for  al  hir  flateryng, 
Cast  under  this  ful  mortally  to  styng. 

The  sowdan  comth  himself  sone  after  this 
80  really,  that  wonder  is  to  telle  ; 

And  welcometh  hir  with  al  joy  and  blys.  4828 

And  thus  with  mirth  and  joy  I  let  hem  dwelle. 
The  fruyt  of  this  matier  is  that  I  telle. 
Whan  tyme  com,  men  thought  it  for  the  best  - 
That  revel  stynt,  and  men  goon  to  her  rest. 

The' tyme  com,  the  olde  sowdonesse 
Ordeyned  hath  this  fest  of  which  I  told  ; 
And  to  the  feste  cristen  folk  hem  dresse 
In  general,  bothe  yong  arid  old. 
Ther  men  may  fest  and  realte  byholde, 
And  deyntes  mo  than  I  can  of  devyse,  4840 

But  al  to  deere  they  bought  it  ar  they  ryse. 

O  sodeyn  wo  !  that  ever  art  successour 
To  worldly  blis,  spreynd  is  with  bitternesse 
The  ende  of  oure  joye,  of  oure  Avoiidly  labour  ; 
Wo  occupieth  the  fyn  of  oure  gladnes'se. 
Herken  this  counseil  for  thyn  sikernesse  ; 
Upon  thyn  glade  dayes  have  in  thi  mynde 
The  unwar  woo  that  cometh  ay  bihynde. 

For  schortly  for  to  tellen  at  o  word, 
The  sowdan  and  the  cristen  everichone 
Ben  al  to-hewe  and  stiked  atte  bord,  4850 

But  it  were  dame  Constaunce  allone 
This  olde  sowdones,  this  cursed  crone, 
Hath  with  hir  frendes  doon  this  cursed  dede. 
For  sche  hirself  wold  al  the  centre  lede. 

Ne  ther  was  Surrien  noon  that  was  converted, 
That  of  the  counseil  of  the  sowdon  woot, 
That  he  nas  al  to-hewe  or  he  asterted  ; 
And  Constaunce  have  they  take  anon  foot-hoot 
And  in  a  schippe,  stereles,  God  it  woot, 
They  have  hir  set,  and  bad  hir  lerne  to  sayle  4860 

Out  of  Surry  agein-ward  toYtaile. 

4847.  unwar  woo.  This  is  a  good  example  of  the  manner  in  which  corrup- 
tions of  the  text  gain  ground.  Some  one  had  apparently  given  or  harm  aa  • 
marginal  K'IOBS  lo  icon .  another  scribe  copied  this  into  the  text,  and  some  M88f 
H*  the  l.ai:Bd.  Ms.  and  one  of  the  Cambridge  M.ss.)  have  unwur  wo  or  hannr 
I'his  wan  agiiin  altered  to  make  apparent  sense,  ajid  Tyrwhitt  has  the  line, 

The  unware  wcoi'  Iturni,  that  cometh  behinde. 


160  TBE  CANTERBURY   TALES. 

A  certein  tresour  that  sohe  thider  ladde, 
And,  soth  to  sayn,  vitaile  gret  plente, 
They  have  hir  geven,  and  clothes  eek  sche  hadde, 
And  forth  sche  sayleth  in  the  salte  see. 
O  nay  Constaunce,  ful  of  bemgnite, 
O  einperoures  yonge  doughter  deere, 
He  that  is  lord  of  fortun  be  thi  steere  I 

Sche  blesseth  hir,  and  with  ful  pitous  voys 
Unto  the  croys  of  Crist  than  seyde  sche  :  4870 

'•  O  oler,  O  welful  auter,  holy  croys, 
Red  of  the  lambes  blood,  ful  of  pite, 
That  wissh  the  world  fro  old  iniquite, 
Me  fro  the  feend  and  fro  his  clowes  keepe, 
That  day  that  I  schal  drenchen  in  the  deepe. 

"  Victorious  tre,  proteccioun  of  trewe, 
That  oonly  were  worthy  for  to  bere 
The  kyng  of  heven,  with  his  woundes  newe, 
The  white  lamb,  that  hurt  was  with  a  spere  ; 
Flemer  of  feendes,  out  of  him  and  here  4886 

On  which  thy  lymes  feithfully  extenden, 
Me  kepe,  and  gif  me  might  my  lyf  to  menden." 

Yeres  and  dayes  flette  this  creature 
Thurghout  the  see  of  Grece,  into  the  strayte 
Of  Marrok,  as  it  was  hir  adventure. 
O  many  a  sory  inele  may  sche  bayte, 
After  hir  deth  ful  ofte  may  sche  wayte, 
Or  that  the  wilde  wawe  wol  hir  dryve 
Unto  the  place  ther  as  sche  schal  arry  ve. 

Men  mighteii  aske,  why  sche  was  nought  slayn  ? 
Ek  at  the  fest  who  might  hir  body  save  ?  4S91 

And  I  answer  to  that  demaunde  agayn, 
Who  saved  Daniel  in  thorrible  cave, 
That  every  wight,  sauf  he,  inayster  or  knave, 
Was  with  the  lioun  frete,  or  he  asterte  ? 
No  wight  but  God,  that  he  bar  in  his  herte. 

God  lust  to  schewe  his  wundurful  miracle 
In  hir,  for  we  schuld  seen  his  mighty  werkes  ; 
Crist,  which  that  is  to  every  harm  triacle, 
By  certeyn  menes  ofte,  as  knowen  clerkes,  4900 

Doth  thing  for  certeyn  ende,  that  ful  derk  is 
To  mannes  witc,  that  for  our  ignoraunce 
Ne  can  nought  knowe  his  prudent  purvyaunce. 

Now  sith  sche  was  nat  at  the  fest  i-slawe, 
Who  kepte  hir  fro  drenching  in  the  see  ? 
Wiio  kepte  Jonas  in  the  fisches  mawe, 
Till  he  was  spouted  up  at  Ninive  ? 
Wei  may  men  knowe,  it  was  uo  wight  but  lie 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  161 

That  kept,  the  pepul  Ebrayk  fro  her  drenchyng, 
With  drye  feet  thurghout  the  see  passyng.  4010 

Who  badde  foure  spiritz  of  tempest, 
That  power  han  to  noyen  land  and  see, 
Bothe  north  and  south,  and  also  west  and  est, 
Arioyeii  neyther  londe,  see.  ne  tree  ? 
Sothly  the  coinaunder  of  that  was  he 
That  fro  the  tempest  ay  this  womman  kepte, 
As  wel  when  sche  awok  as  when  sche  slepte. 

Wher  might  this  womman  mete  and  drinke  have  ' 
Thre  yer  and  more,  how  lasteth  hir  vitaille? 
Who  fedde  the  Egipcien  Marie  in  the  cave,  4920 

Or  in  desert?  no  wight  but  Crist  saunz  faile. 
Fyf  tllousand  folk  it  wa?  a  gret  mervaile 
With  loves  fyf  and  fissches  tuo  to  feede  ; 
God  sent  his  foysouri  at  her  grete  neede. 

Sche  dryveth  forth  into  oure  occean 
Thurghout  oure  wilde  see,  til  atte  last 
Under  an  holte,  that  neinpnen  I  ne  can, 
Fer  in  Northumberland,  the  wawe  hir  cast, 
A.nd  in  the  sand  the  schip  styked  so  fast, 
That  thennes  wold  it  nought  in  al  a  tyde  ;  4930 

The  wille  of  Crist  was  that  sche  schold  abyde. 

The  constabil  of  the  castel  doun  is  fai-3 
To  se  this  wrak,  and  al  the  schip  he  sought, 
And  fond  this  wery  womman  ful  of  care  ; 
He  fand  also  the  tresour  that  sche  brought ; 
In  hir  langage  mercy  sche  bisought, 
The  lif  out  of  hir  body  for  to  twynne, 
Hir  to  delyver  of  woo  that  sche  was  inrie. 

A  inaner  Latyii  corupt  was  hir  speche, 
But  algates  therby  sche  was  understonde.  494G 

The  constabil,  whan  him  lust  no  lenger  seche, 
This  woful  womman  broughte  he  to  londe. 
Sche  kneleth  doun,  and  thanketh  Goddes  sonde  . 
But  what  sche  was,  sche  wolde  no  man  seye 
For  foul  ne  faire,  though  sche  scholde  deye. 

Sche  was,  sche  seyd,  so  mased  in  the  see, 
That  sche  forgat  hir  mynde,  by  hiretrowthe. 
The  constable  had  of  hir  so  gret  pitee, 
And  eek  his  wyf,  they  wepedeu  for  routhe  ; 
Sche  was  so  diligent  withouten  slouthe  4S50 

To  serve  and  plese  ever  in  that  place, 
That  alle  hir  loven  that  loken  on  hir  face. 

4927.  tliit  nemfnen  I  ne  can.     The  MS.  reads  that  men  nempiif  can. 

4939.  a  maner  Latyn  corupt.  In  the  romance  of  FiUko  titz  Wurine  (p.  91), 
where  a  pretended  merchant  from  the  East  comes  to  London,  we  are  told.— 
"  Et  quaii. ju'il  parla  fust  Latun  corunt.  mes  le  meir  le  cntendy  bleu." 


162  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


The  constable  and  dame  Hermegyld  his  wyf, 
To  telle  you  playne,  payenes  bothe  were  ; 
But  Hermegyld  loved  Constance  as  hir  lyf ; 
And  Constance  hath  so  long  herberwed  there 
In  orisoun,  with  many  a  bitter  teere, 
Til  Jhesu  hath  converted  thurgh  his  grace 
Dame  Hermagyld,  the  constables  of  the  place. 

In  ai  the  lond  no  cristen  men  durst  route  ; 
Al  cristen  men  ben  fled  from  that  contre 
Thurgh  payens,  that  conquered  al  aboute 
The  places  of  the  north  by  land  and  see. 
To  Wales  fled  the  cristianite 
Of  olde  Britouns,  dwellyng  in  this  yle  ; 
Ther  was  hir  refut  for  the  inene  while. 

But  yit  nere  cristen  Britouns  so  exiled, 
That  ther  riere  some  in  here  pryvite 
Honoured  Crist,  and  hethen  folk  bygiled  ; 
And  neigh  the  castel  ^uch  ther  dwellid  thre.  4970 

That  oon  of  hem  was  blynd,  and  might  nat  se, 
But  if  it  were  with  eyen  of  his  mynde, 
With  which  men  seen  after  that  they  ben  blynde. 

Bright  was  the  sonne,  as  in  someres  day, 
For  which  the  constable  and  his  wif  also 
And  Constaunce  had  take  the  righte  way 
Toward  the  see,  a  forlong  wey  or  two, 
To  pleyen,  and  to  romen  to  and  fro  ; 
Arid  in  that  walk  this  blynde  man  they  mette, 
Croked  and  olde,  with  eyen  fast  y-schette.  4980 

"  In  name  of  Crist,"  cryed  this  old  Britoun, 
"  Dame  Ilermegyld,  gif  me  my  sight  ageyn  !  " 
This  lady  wax  affrayed  of  the  soun, 
Lest  that  hir  houseband,  schortly  to  sayn, 
Wold  hir  for  Jhesu  Cristes  love  have  slayn, 
Til  Constaunce  made  hir  bold,  and  bad  hir  werche 
The  wil  of  Crist,  as  doughter  of  holy  chirche. 

The  constable  wax  abaisshed  of  that  sight, 
And  sayde,  "  What  amounteth  al  this  fare  ?  " 
Constaunce  answered,  ';  Sir,  it  is  Cristes  might, 
That  helpeth  folk  out  of  the  feendes  snare.*' 
And  so  ferforth  sche  gan  hir  lay  declare, 
That  sche  the  constable,  er  that  it  was  eve 
Converted,  and  on  Crist  made  him  bileve. 

This  constable  Avas  not  lord  of  the  place 

4904.    Tyrwhitt  gives  (from  other  M8S.)  instead  of  this  line, 

If  ere  paytnes,  and  that  cwtrte  every  wher. 
Hit  JIarl.  Ms.  has  in  ptyiu-s  for  payenes. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  163 

Of  which  I  speke,  ther  he  Constance  fond, 

But  kept  it  strongly  many  a  wynter  space 

Under  Alia,  kyng  of  Northumberlond, 

That  was  ful  wys,  and  worthy  of  his  hond, 

Agein  the  Scottes,  as  men  may  wel  heere.  5000 

But  tourne  agein  I  wil  to  my  mateere. 

Satan,  that  ever  us  wayteth  to  begile, 
Sawe  of  Constaunce  al  hir  perfeccioun, 
And  cast  anoon  how  he  might  quyt  hir  while  j 
And  made  a  yong  knight,  that  dwelt  in  the  toun, 
Love  hir  so  hoot  of  foul  affeccioun, 
That  verrayly  him  thought  he  schulde  spille, 
But  he  of  hire  oones  had  his  wille. 

He  wowith  hir,  but  it  avayleth  nought, 
Sche  wolde  do  no  synne  by  no  weye ;  5010 

And  for  despyt,  he  compassed  in  his  thought 
To  maken  hir  a  schamful  deth  to  deye. 
He  wayteth  whan  the  constable  was  aweye, 
And  pryvyly  upon  a  nyght  he  crepte 
In  Hermyngyldes  chambre  whil  sche  slepte. 

Wery,  for-waked  in  here  orisoun, 
Slepeth  Constaunce,  and  Hermyngyld  also. 
This  knight,  thurgh  Satanas  teinptacioun, 
Al  softely  is  to  the  bed  y-go, 

And  kutte  the  ihrote  of  Hermegild  a-two,  5020 

And  leyd  the  bloody  knyf  by  dame  Constaunce, 
And  went  his  way,  ther  God  geve  him  meschaunce. 

Sone  after  comth  this  constable  horn  agayn, 
And  eek  Alia,  that  kyng  was  of  that  lond, 
And  say  his  wyf  dispitously  i-slayn, 
For  which  ful  oft  he  wept  and  wrong  his  hond  ; 
And  in  the  bed  the  blody  knyf  he  fond 
By  dame  Custaunce :  alias  !  what  might  she  say  ? 
For  verray  woo  hir  witt  was  al  away. 

To  king  Alia  was  told  al  this  meschaunce,  5030 

And  eek  the  tyme,  and  wher,  and  in  what  wrse 
That  in  a  schip  was  founden  this  Constaunce, 
\s  here  bifore  ye  have  herd  me  devyse. 
The  kinges  hert  of  pite  gan  agrise, 
Whan  he  saugh  so  benigne  a  creature 
Falle  in  disese  and  in  mysaventure. 

For  as  the  lomb  toward  his  deth  is  brought, 
So  stant  this  innocent  bifore  the  kyng. 

5015.  Htrmyngyldes.  The  orthography  of  the  name  varies  in  different 
Mss.  Ms.  Lauds,  has  Krmrnililii :  the  two  Cambridge  MSB.  used  by  me  have, 
one,  Hermen chillies,  the  other  i'{»-rm<-ti</il<lv.  It  is  the  .Saxon  Kormenijild, 
which  was  the  name  of  one  of  the  daughters  of  Karconbehrt,  king  of  Kent. 
Bee  F/orciir,'  of  ll'tirri-stf-r.  Perhaps  this  romance  existed  in  a  Teutonic  cr 
even  Anglo-Saxon  original. 


164  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

This  false  knight,  that  nath  this  tresoun  wrought, 
Bereth  hir  an  hand  that  sche  hath  don  this  thing  ; 
But  nevertheles  ther  was  gret  murmuryng  5041 

Among  the  poeple,  and  seyn  they  can  not  gesse 
That  sche  had  doon  so  gret  a  wikkednesse. 

For  they  han  seyen  hir  so  vertuous, 
And  lovyng  Hermegyld  right  as  hir  lyf  ; 
Of  this  bar  witnesse  everich  in  that  hous, 
Save  he  that  Hermegyld  slowgh  with  his  knyf. 
This  gentil  kyng  hath  caught  a  gret  motyf 
Of  his  witnesse,  and  thought  he  wold  enquere 
Depper  in  this  cas,  a  trouthe  to  lere.  5050 

Alias  !  Constaunce,  thou  ne  has  no  champioun, 
Ne  fighte  canstow  nat,  so  welaway  ! 
But  he  that  for  oure  redempcioun 
Bonde  Sathan,  and  yit  lith  ther  he  lay, 
So  be  thy  stronge  champioun  this  day  ; 
For  but  Crist  upon  the  miracle  kythe, 
Withouten  gilt  thou  schalt  be  slayn  as  swithe. 

Sche  set  hir  doun  on  knees,  and  than  sche  sayde, 
"  Immortal  God,  that  savedest  Susanne 
Fro  false  blame  ;  and  thou,  rnercyful  mayde,  5060 

Mary  I  mene,  doughter  of  seint  Anne, 
Bifore  whos  child  aungeles  syng  Osanne  ; 
If  I  be  gultles  of  this  felonye, 
My  socour  be,  for  elles  schal  I  dye  I  " 

Have  ye  not  seye  som  tyme  a  pale  face, 
Among  a  prees,  of  him  that  hath  be  lad 
Toward  his  deth,  wher  him  geyneth  no  grace, 
And  such  a  colour  in  his  face  hath  had, 
Men  mighte  knowe  his  face  was  so  bystad, 
Among  alle  the  faces  in  that  route  ;  5070 

So  stant  Constance,  and  loketh  hire  aboute. 

O  queenes  lyvyng  in  prosperite, 
Duchesses,  and  ye  ladies  everychon, 
Haveth  soin  reuthe  on  hir  adversite  ; 
An  emperoures  doughter  stond  allon  ; 
Sche  nath  no  wight  to  whom  to  make  hir  moon  ; 
O  blod  ryal,  that  stondest  in  this  drede, 
Ferr°  be  thy  frendes  at  thy  grete  neede ! 

This  Alia  kyng  hath  such  conipassioun, 
As  gentil  hert'is  fulfild  of  pite,  5080 

That  from  his  eyen  ran  the  water  doun. 
"  Now  hastily  do  fech  a  book,"  quod  he  ; 
"  And  if  this  knight  wil  swere  how  that  sche 

5067.  him  geyneth.    Some  of  the  MSS.  have  him  qeteth.     Him.  In  caaoa  lik.« 
this  answers  to  the  Latin  dative  gibi ;  he  gaiuethybr  himself. 


TllE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  165 

This  womman  slowgn,  yet  wol  we  us  avyse, 
Whom  that  we  wille  schal  be  oure  justise." 

A  Britoun  hook,  i-write  with  Kvaungiles, 
Was  fette,  and  on  this  book  he  swor  auoon 
Sche  gultif  was  ;  and  in  the  niene  whiles 
An  hond  him  smot  upon  the  nekke  boon, 
That  doun  he  fel  anon  right  as  astoon  ;  5090 

And  bothe  his  yen  brast  out  of  his  face, 
In  sight  of  every  body  in  that  place. 

A  vois  was  herd,  in  general  audience, 
And  seid,  "Thou  hast  disclaundred  gulteles 
The  doughter  of  holy  chirche  in  hire  pretence  ; 
Thus  hastow  doon,  and  yit  I  holde  my  pees." 
Of  this  mervaile  agast  was  al  the  prees, 
As  mased  folk  they  stooden  everychon 
For  drede  of  wreche,  save  Custaunce  allon. 

Gret  was  the  drede  and  eek  the  repentaunce         5100 
Of  hem  that  hadden  wrong  suspeccioun 
Upon  the  sely  innocent  Custaunce  ; 
And  for  this  miracle,  in  conclusioun, 
And  by  Custaunces  mediacioun, 
The  kyng,  and  many  other  in  the  place, 
Converted  was,  thanked  be  Cristes  grace  ! 

This  false  knight  was  slayn  for  his  untrouthe 
By  juggement  of  Alia  hastyly  ; 
And  yit  Custaunce  hath  of  his  deth  gret  routhe. 
And  after  this  Jhesus  of  his  mercy  5110 

Made  Alia  wedde  ful  solempnely 
This  holy  mayde,  that  is  bright  and  schene, 
And  thus  hath  Crist-i-maad  Constance  a  queent.. 

But  who  was  woful,  if  I  schal  not  lye, 
Of  this  weddyng  but  Dornegild  and  no  mo. 
The  kynges  mooder,  ful  of  tyrannye  ? 
Hir  thought  hir  cursed  herte  brast  a-two  ; 
Sche  wolde  nat  hir  sone  had  i-do  so  ; 
liir  thought  despyte,  that  he  schulde  take 
So  straunge  a  creature  unto  his  make.  5l2f 

Me  lust  not  of  the  caf  ne  of  the  stree 
Make  so  long  a  tale,  as  of  the  corn- 
What  schuld  I  telle  of  the  realte 
Of  this  manage,  or  which  cours  goth  biforn, 
Who  bloweth  in  a  trompe  or  in  an  horn  ? 
The  fruyt  of  every  tale  is  for  to  seye  ; 
They  ete  and  drynk,  and  daunce  and  synge  and  pleye. 

They  gon  to  bed,  as  it  was  skile  and  right ; 
For  though  that  wyfes  ben  ful  holy  thinges, 
They  moste  take  in  pacience  a-night  5130 


160  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Such  marier  necessaries  as  ben  plesynges 
To  folk  that  han  i- wedded  hem  with  rynges, 
And  halvendel  her  holynesse  ley  aside 
As  for  the  tyme,  it  may  non  other  betyde. 

On  hire  he  gat  a  knave  child  anoon, 
And  to  a  bisschope,  and  to  his  constable  eeke, 
He  took  his  wyf  to  kepe,  whan  he  is  goon 
To  Scotlond-ward,  his  foomen  for  to  seeke. 
Now  faire  Custaunce,  that  is  so  humble  and  mtre*8, 
So  long  is  goon  with  childe  til  that  stille  5140 

Sche  held  hir  chambre,  abidyng  Goddes  wille. 

The  tyme  is  come,  a  knave  child  sche  bere  ; 
Mauricius  atte  funtstone  men  him  calle. 
This  constabil  doth  come  forth  a  messager, 
And  wrot  to  his  kyng  that  cleped  was  Alle, 
How  that  this  blisful  tydyng  is  bifalle, 
And  other  thinges  spedful  for  to  seye. 
He  taketh  the  lettre,  and  forth  he  goth  his  weye. 

This  messanger,  to  doon  his  avauntage, 
Unto  the  kynges  moder  he  goth  ful  swithe,  5150 

And  salueth  hire  fair  in  his  langage. 
"  Madame,"  quod  he,   "ye  may  be  glad  and  blithe, 
And  thanke  God  an  hundred  thousand  sithe ; 
My  lady  queen  hath  child,  withouten  doute 
To  joye  and  blis  of  al  the  reame  aboute. 

"  Lo  heer  the  lettres  sealed  of  this  thing, 
That  I  mot  bere  with  al  the  hast  I  may  ; 
If  ye  wole  ought  unto  youre  sone  the  kyng,  5160 

I  am  youre  servaunt  bothe  night  arid  day." 
Doungyld  answerde,   "  As  now  this  tyme,  nay  ; 
But  here  al  nyght  I  wol  thou  take  thy  rest, 
To  morwen  I  wil  say  the  what  me  lest." 

This  messanger  drank  sadly  ale  and  wyn, 
And  stolen  were  his  lettres  pryvely 
Out  of  his  box,  whil  he  sleep  as  a  swyn ; 
And  countrefeet  they  were  subtily  ; 
Another  sche  him  wroot  ful  synfully, 
Unto  the  kyng  direct  of  this  matiere 
Fro  his  constable,  as  ye  schul  after  heere. 

The  lettre  spak,  the  queen  delyvered  was  5170 

Of  so  orryble  and  feendly  creature, 
That  in  the  castel  noon  so  hardy  was 
That  eny  while  dorste  therin  endure ; 
The  inooder  was  an  elf  by  aventure 
Bycome  by  charnies  or  by  sorcerie, 
And  every  man  hatith  hir  compariye. 
6143.  Mauricius.    The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  Maurims.  by  an  error  or  the  scribe 


THE  MAN  OF  I.A  WES  TALE.  167 

Wo  was  this  kyng  whan  he  this  letter  had  sein, 
But  to  no  wight  he  told  his  sorwes  sore, 
But  of  his  owen  hand  he  wrot  agayn  : 
"  Welcome  the  sond  of  Crist  for  everemore  5180 

To  me,  that  am  now  lerned  in  this  lore  ; 
Lord,  welcome  be  thy  lust  and  thy  pleasaunce  ! 
My  lust  I  putte  al  in  thyn  ordinaunce. 

"  Kepeth  this  child,  al  be  it  foul  or  fair, 
And  eek  my  wyf,  unto  myn  horn  comyng  ; 
Crist  whan  him  lust  may  sende  me  an  hair 
More  agreable  than  this  to  my  likyng." 
This  lettre  he  seleth,  pryvyly  wepyng, 
Which  to  the  messager  he  took  ful  sone, 
And  forth  he  goth,  ther  nys  no  more  to  done.  5190 

O  messager,  fulfild  of  dronkenesse, 
Strong  is  thy  breth,  thy  lymes  faltren  ay, 
And  thou  bywreyst  alle  sykernesse  ; 
Thy  mynde  is  lorn,  thou  janglest  as  a  jay  ; 
Thy  face  is  torned  al  in  a  newe  array  ; 
Ther  drunkenesse  regrieth  in  eny  route, 
Ther  is  no  counseil  hid,  withouten  doute. 

O  Domegyld,  I  have  non  Englisch  digne 
Unto  thy  malice  and  thy  tyrannye  ; 
And  therfor  to  the  feend  I  the  resigne,  6200 

Let  him  endyten  of  thi  treccherie. 
Fy,  mannyssch,  fy  ! — o  nay,  by  God,  I  lye  ; 
Fy,  feendly  spirit,  for  I  dar  wel  telle, 
Though  thou  here  walke,  thy  spirit  is  in  helle. 

This  messanger  cointh  fro  the  kyng  agayn, 
And  at  the  kinges  modres  coui't  he  light, 
And  sche  was  of  this  messenger  ful  fayn, 
And  pleseth  him  in  al  that  ever  sche  might. 
He  drank,  and  wel  his  gurdel  uriderpight ; 
He  slepeth,  and  he  fareth  in  his  gyse  5210 

Al  nyght,  unto  the  sonne  gan  arise. 

Eft  were  his  lettres  stolen  everichon, 
And  countrefeted  lettres  in  this  wise  : 
'  The  kyng  comaundeth  his  constable  anon, 
Up  peyne  of  hangyng  and  of  heigh  justise, 
That  he  ne  schulde  suil're  in  no  maner  wyse 
Constaunce  in  his  regrie  for  to  ab'yde 
Thre  dayes,  and  a  quarter  of  a  tyde  ; 

But  in  the  same  schip  as  he  hir  fond, 
Hire  and  hir  yonge  sone,  arid  al  hire  gere,  5220 

He  schulde  putte,  and  crowde  fro  the  londe, 
And  charge  hire  that  sche  never  eft  come  there." 
O  niy  Coustauuce,  wel  may  thy  goost  have  fere, 


168  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  slepyng  in  thy  drem  ben  in  penaunce, 
Whan  Domegyld  cast  al  this  ordynaunce. 

This  inessanger  a-inorwe,  whan  he  awook, 
Unto  the  castel  held  the  nexte  way  ; 
And  to  the  constable  he  the  lettre  took  j 
And  whan  that  he  the  pitous  lettre  say, 
Ful  ofte  he  seyd  alias  and  welaway ;  5230 

"  Lord  Crist,"  quod  he,  "  how  may  this  world  endure  ? 
So  ful  of  synne  is  many  a  creature  1 

O  mighty  God,  if  that  it  be  thy  wille, 
Seth  thou  art  rightful  jugge,  how  may  this  be 
That  thou  wolt  suffre  innocentz  to  spille, 
And  wikked  folk  regne  in  prosperite  ? 
O  good  Constance,  alias  !  so  wo  is  me, 
That  I  moot  be  thy  tormentour,  or  deye 
On  schamful  deth,  ther  is  non  other  weye." 

Wepen  bothe  yong  and  olde  in  al  that  place,       5240 
Whan  that  the  kyng  this  corsed  lettre  sent ; 
And  Constance  with  a  dedly  pale  face 
The  fayre  day  toward  hir  schip  sche  went. 
But  nevertheles  sche  taketh  in  good  entent 
The  wil  of  Christ,  and  knelyng  on  the  grounde  • 
Sche  sayde,  "  Lord,  ay  welcome  be  thy  sonde  1 

He  that  me  kepte  fro  the  false  blame, 
Whil  I  was  on  the  lond  amonges  you, 
He  can  me  kepe  from  harm  and  eek  fro  schame 
In  the  salt  see,  although  I  se  nat  how  ;  5250 

As  strong  as  ever  he  was,  he  is  right  now, 
In  him  trust  I,  and  in  his  mooder  deere, 
That  is  to  me  my  sayl  and  eek  my  steere." 

Hir  litel  child  lay  wepyng  in  hir  arm, 
And  knelyng  pitously  to  him  sche  sayde  : 
"  Pees,  litel  sone,  I  wol  do  the  noon  harm." 
With  that  hir  kerchef  of  hir  lied  sche  brayde 
And  over  his  litle  eyghen  sche  it  layde, 
And  in  hir  arm  sche  lullith  it  wel  faste, 
And  unto  heveri  hir  eyghen  up  sche  caste.  5260 

Moder,"  quod  sche,  "and  mayde  bright,  Mane, 
Soth  is,  that  thurgh  wommannes  eggement 
Maiikynde  was  lorn  and  dampned  ay  to  dye, 
For  which  thy  child  was  on  a  cros  to-rent  ; 
Thyn  blisful  eyghen  sawh  al  this  torment ; 
Then  iiys  ther  noon  comparisoun  bitwene 
Thy  wo,  and  any  woo  may  man  sustene. 

"  Thow  saugh  thy  child  i-slaw  byfor  thyn  yen, 
Arid  yit  now  lyveth  my  litel  child,  parfay  •  5268 

5243.  fayre.    Tyrwliitt  hzsfi.nirt.fie,  perhaps  correctly. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  ItJJJ 


Now,  lady  bright,  to  whom  alle  woful  cryen, 
Thou  glory  of  wommanhod,  thou  faire  may, 
Thou  heven  of  refute,  brighte  sterre  of  day, 

Rewe  on  my  child,  that  of  thyn  gentilnesse 
Rewest  on  every  synful  in  destresse. 

"  O  litel  child,  alias  !  what  is  thi  gilt, 
That  never  wroughtest  synne  as  yet,  parde  ? 
Why  wil  thyn  harde  fader  hari  the  spilt  ? 
O  mercy,  deere  constable,"  seyde  sche, 
"  And  let  my  litel  child  here  dwelle  with  the ; 
And  if  thou  darst  not  saven  him  for  blame,  5380 

So  kys  him  oones  in  his  fadres  name." 

Therwith' sche  loketh  bak-ward  to  the  lond. 
And  »eyde,  "  Farwel,  housbond  rewtheles  !  " 
And  up  sche  rist,  and  walketh  doun  the  stronde 
Toward  the  schip,  hir  folweth  al  the  prees  ; 
And  ever  sche  preyeth  hir  child  to  hold  his  pees, 
And  took  hir  leve,  and  with  an  holy  entent 
Sche  blesseth  hire,  and  to  the  schip  sche  went. 

Vytailled  was  the  schip,  it  is  no  drede, 
Abundauntly  for  hire  a  ful  longe  space  ;  5290 

And  other  necessaries  that  schulde  nede 
Sche  had  ynowgh,  heryed  be  Cristez  grace  ; 
For  wyrid  and  water  almighty  God  purchace, 
And  bryng  hir  horn,  I  can  no  bettre  say, 
But  in  the  see  sche  dryveth  forth  hir  way. 

Alia  the  kyng  comth  horn  soon  after  tliis 
Unto  the  castel,  of  the  which  I  tolde, 
Arid  asketh  wher  his  wyf  and  his  child  ys. 
The  constable  gan  aboute  his  herte  colde, 
And  playnly  al  the  maner  he  him  tolde  530D 

As  ye  hari  herd,  I  can  telle  it  no  better, 
And  schewed  the  kynges  seal  and  his  letter  ; 

And  seyde,  "  Lord,  as  ye  comaurided  me 
Up  peyne  of  deth.  so  have  I  do  certayn." 
This  messager  tormented  was,  til  he 
Moste  biknowTe  and  telle  it  plat  and  playn, 
Fro  nyght  to  night  in  what  place  he  had  layn  ; 
And  thus  by  witt  and  subtil  enqueryng 
Ymagined  was  by  wham  this  gan  to  spryng. 

The  hand  was  knowen  that  the  lettre  wroot,        5311 
And  al  the  veuym  of  this  cursed  dede ; 
But  in  what  wyse,  certeynly  I  noot. 
Theifect  is  this,  that  Alia,  out  of  drede, 
ilis  moder  slough,  as  men  may  pleynly  roede, 
For  that  sche  traytour  was  to  hir  ligeaunce. 
Thus  eiuleth  olde  Domegild  with  meschaunce. 


170  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES 


The  sorwe  that  this  Alia  night  and  day 
Makth  for  his  wyf  and  for  his  child  also, 
Ther  is  no  tonge  that  it  tclle  may. 

But  now  I  wol  unto  Custaunce  go,  f^2(i 

That  fleeteth  in  the  see  in  peyne  and  wo 
Fyve  yeer  and  more,  as  liked  Cristes  sonde, 
Er  that  hir  schip  approched  unto  londe. 

Under  an  hethen  castel  atte  last, 
Of  which  the  name  in  my  text  nought  I  fynde, 
C  ;nstaunee  arid  eek  hir  child  the  see  upcast. 
Almighty  God,  that  saveth  al  mankynde, 
Have  on  Constaunce  and  on  hir  child  som  mynde  ' 
That  fallen  is  in  hethen  hond  eftsone,  5323 

In  poynt  to  spille,  as  I  schal  telle  you  soorie. 

Doun  fro  the  castel  cometh  many  a  wight, 
To  gawren  on  this  schip,  and  on  Constaunce; 
But  schortly  fro  the  castel  on  a  night, 
The  lordes  styward,  God  give  him  meschaunce  i 
A  theef  that  had  reneyed  oure  creaunce., 
Com  into  schip  alone,  and  seyd  he  schol-ie 
Hir  lemman  be,  whethir  echo  wold  or  noide. 

Wo  was  this  wrecched  womman  tho  bigoon, 
Hire  childe  crieth  and  sche  pytously  ; 
But  blisful  Mary  hilp  hir  right  anoon,  5340 

For  with  hir  stroglyng  wel  and  mightily 
The  theef  fel  over-boord  al  sodeinly, 
And  in  the  see  he  drenched  for  vengaunce, 
And  thus  hath  Crist  unwemmed  kept  Constance. 

O  foule  lust,  O  luxurie,  lo  thin  ende  ! 
Nought  oonly  that  thou  feyntest  mannes  mynde 
But  verrayly  thou  wolt  his  body  scheride. 
The  ende  of  thyn  werk,  or  of  thy  lustes  blyude, 
Is  compleynyng  ;  how  many  may  men  fynde,  ^-49 

TLat  nought  for  werk  som  tyme,  but  for  thentent 
To  doon  this  synne,  ben  eyther  slayn  or  schent  I 

How  may  this  weyke  womman  han  the  strength* 
Hir  to  defende  agein  this  renegat  ? 
O  Golias,  unmesurable  of  lengthe, 
How  mighte  David  make  the  so  mate  ? 
So  yorig,  and  of  armure  so  desolate, 
How  dorst  he  loke  upon  thyn  dredful  face  ? 
Wel  may  men  seyn,  it  nas  but  Goddes  grace. 

Who  gaf  Judith  corage  or  hardynesse 
To  slen  him  Olefernes  in  his  tent,  5?<rt» 

And  to  delyveren  out  of  wrecchedries 
The  peple  of  God  ?     I  say  in  this  euteut, 

6341.  stroylyng.    The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  strength* 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  I'l  1 

That  right  as  God  spiryte  and  vigor  sent 
To  hem,  and  saved  hem  out  of  mesehaunce, 
So  sent  he  might  and  vigor  to  Constaunce. 

Forth  goth  hir  schip  thurghout  the  narwe  mouth 
Of  Jubalter  and  Septe,  dryvyng  alway, 
Som  tyme  west,  and  som  tyme  north  and  south, 
And  som  tyme  est,  ful  many  a  wery  day  ; 
Til  Cristes  niooder,  blessed  be  sche  ay  !  5371 

dath  schapen  thurgh  hir  endeles  goodnesse 
To  make  an  ende  of  hir  hevynesse. 

Now  let  us  stynt  of  Constance  but  a  throwe, 
And  speke  we  of  the  Romayn  emperour, 
That  out  of  Surrye  hath  by  lettres  knowe 
The  slaughter  of  cristen  folk,  and  deshonour 
Doon  to  his  doughter  by  a  fals  traytour, 
I  merie  the  cursed  wikked  sowdenesse, 
That  at  the  fest  leet  slee  bothe  more  and  les'se. 

For  which  this  emperour  hath  sent  anoon  5380 

His  senatours,  with  real  ordynaunce, 
And  other  lordes,  God  wot,  many  oon, 
On  Surriens  to  take  high  vengaunce. 
They  brenne,  sleen,  and  bringen  hem  to  mesehaunce 
Ful  many  a  day  ;  but  schortly  this  is  thende, 
Horn-ward  to  Rome  they  schapen  hem  to  wende. 

This  senatour  repayreth  with  victorie 
To  Rome-ward,  saylyng  ful  really, 
And  mette  the  schip  dryvyng,  as  seth  the  story, 
In  which  Constance  sitteth  ful  pitously.  5390 

Nothing  ne  knew  he  what  sche  was,  ne  why 
Sche  was  in  such  aray,  sche  nolde  seye 
Of  hire  astaat,  although  sche  scholde  deye. 

He  bryngeth  hir  to  Rome,  and  to  his  wyf 
He  gaf  hir,  and  hir  yonge  sone  also  ; 
And  with  the  senatour  lad  sche  hir  lyf. 
Thus  can  our  lady  bryngen  out  of  woo 
Woful  Constance,  and  many  another  moo  j 
Ar.d  longe  tyme  dwelled  sche  in  that  place, 
In  holy  werkes,  as  ever  was  hir  grace.  540C 

The  senatoures  wif  hir  aunte  was, 
But  for  al  that  sche  knew  hir  never  more  : 
I  wol  no  lenger  taryeri  in  this  cas, 
But  to  kyng  Alia,  which  I  spak  of  yore, 
That  for  his  wyf  wepeth  and  siketh  sore, 
I  wol  retorne,  and  lete  I  wol  Constaunce 
Dnder  the  senatoures  governaunce. 

Kyng  Alia,  which  that  had  his  mooder  slayn, 
Upon  a  day  fel  in  such  repeiitaunco. 


172  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  if  I  schortly  telle  sclial  and  playn,  5410 

To  Rome  he  cometh  to  receyve  his  penaunce, 

And  putte  him  in  the  popes  ordynaunce 

In  heigh  and  lowe,  and  Jhesu  Crist  bysought, 

Forgef  his  wikked  Averkes  that  he  wrought. 

The  fame  anon  thurgh  Rome  toun  is  born. 
How  Alia  kyng  schal  come  in  pilgrymagb. 
By  herber;ourz  that  wenten  him  biforn, 
For  which  the  senatour,  as  was  usage, 
Rood  him  agein,  and  many  of  his  lynage, 
As  wel  to  schewen  his  magnificence,  5420 

As  to  doon  eny  kyng  a  reverence. 

Gret  cheere  doth  this  noble  senatour 
To  kyng  Alia,  and  he  to  him  also  ; 
Everich  of  hem  doth  other  gret  honour. 
And  so  bifel,  that  in  a  day  or  two 
This  senatour  is  to  kyng  Alia  go 
To  fest,  and  schortly,  if  I  schal  not  lye, 
Constances  sone  went  in  his  companye. 

Som  men  wold  seyn  at  request  of  Custaunce 
This  senatour  hath  lad  this  child  to  feste  ;  5430 

I  may  not  telle  every  circumstaunce, 
Be  as  be  may,  ther  was  he  atte  leste  ; 
But  soth  it  is,  right  at  his  modres  heste, 
Byforn  hem  alle,  duryng  the  metes  space, 
The  child  stood  lokyng  in  the  kynges  face. 

This  Alia  kyng  hath  of  this  child  gret  wonder, 
And  to  the  senatour  he  seyd  anoon, 
"  Whos  is  that  faire  child  that  stondeth  yonder  ?  " 
"  I  not,"  quod  he,  "  by  God  and  by  seynt  Jon  ! 
A  moder  he  hath,  but  fader  hath  he  non,  5440 

That  I  of  woot :  "  and  schortly  in  a  stounde 
He  told  Alia  how  that  this  child  was  founde. 

"  But  God  woot,"  quod  this  senatour  also, 
"  So  vertuous  a  lyver  in  my  lyf 
Ne  saugh  I  never,  such  as  sche,  nomo 
Of  worldly  womman,  mayden,  or  of  wyf ; 
1  dar  wel  say  sche  hadde  lever  a  knyf 
Thurghout  hir  brest,  than  ben  a  womman  wikke, 
Ther  is  no  man  can  bryng  hir  to  that  prikke." 

Now  was  this  child  as  lik  unto  Custaunce  5450 

As  possible  is  a  creature  to  be. 
This  Alia  hath  the  face  in  remembraunce 
Of  dame  Custance,  and  theron  mused  he, 
If  that  the  childes  mooder  were  ought  sche 
That  is  his  wyf  ;  and  pryvely  he  hight, 
And  sped  him  fro  the  table  that  he  might. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  1 73 

"  Parfay  '  "  thought  he,  "  fantom  is  in  myn  heed  ; 
I  ought  to  derae,  of  rightful  juggement, 
That  in  the  salte  see  my  wyf  is  deed." 
And  after-ward  he  made  this  argument :  5460 

"  What  woot  I,  wher  Crist  hath  hider  sei 
My  wyf  by  see,  as  wel  as  lie  hir  sent 
To  my  contre,  fro  thennes  that  sche  went  ?  " 

And  after  noon  home  with  the  senatour 
Goth  Alia,  for  to  see  this  "wonder  chaunce. 
This  senatour  doth  Alia  gret  honour, 
And  hastely  he  sent  after  Custauiice. 
But  trusteth  wel,  hir  luste  nat  to  daunce, 
Whan  that  sche  wiste  wherfore  was  that  sonde, 
Dnnethes  on  hir  feet  sche  mighte  stonde.  5470 

Whan  Alia  saugh  his  wyf,  fay  re  he  hir  grette, 
And  wepte,  that  it  was  rewthe  to  se  ; 
For  at  the  flrste  look  he  on  hir  sette 
He  knew  wel  verrely  that  it  was  sche.  * 

And  for  sorwe,  as  domb  sche  stant  as  tre; 
So  was  hire  herte  schett  in  hir  distresses, 
Whan  sche  remembred  his  unkyndenesse. 

Twies  sche  swowned  in  his  owen  sight ; 
He  wept  and  him  excuseth  pitously  ; 
"  Now  God,"  quod  he,  "  and  alle  his  halwes  bright 
So  wisly  on  my  soule  have  mercy,  5481 

That  of  youre  harm  as  gulteles  am  I 
As  is  Maurice  my  sone,  so  lyk  youre  face, 
Elles  the  feend  me  fecche  out  of  this  place." 

Long  was  the  sobbyng  and  the  bitter  pejpne, 
Or  that  here  woful  herte  mighte  cesse  ; 
Gret  was  the  pite  for  to  here  hem  pleyne, 
Thurgh  whiche  playntz  gan  here  wo  encresse. 
I  pray  you  alle  my  labour  to  relesse, 
1  may  not  telle  al  here  woe  unto  inorwe,  5400 

I  am  so  wery  for  to  speke  of  the  sorwe. 

But  fynally,  whan  that  the  soth  is  wist, 
That  Alia  gilteles  was  of  hir  woo, 
I  trowe  an  hundred  tymes  they  ben  kist, 
And  such  a  blys  is  ther  bitwix  hem  tuo, 
That,  save  the  joye  that  lasteth  everemo, 
Ther  is  noon  lyk,  that  eny  creature 
Hath  seyn  or  schal,  whil  that  the  world  may  dure. 

Tho  prayde  sche  hir  Inusbond  meekely 
In  the  relees  of  hir  pytous  pyne,  5500 

That  he  wold  preye  hir  fader  specially, 
That  of  his  majeste  lie  wold  enclyne 
To  vouchesauf  som  tyme  with  him  to  dyne. 


174  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Sche  preyeth  him  eek,  he  schulde  by  no  weye 
Unto  hir  fader  no  word  of  hir  seye. 

Soin  men  wold  seye,  that  hir  child  Maurice 
Doth  his  message  unto  the  emperour ; 
But,  as  I  gesse,  Alia  was  nat  so  nyce, 
To  him  that  is  so  soverayn  of  honour, 
AB  he  that  is  of  Cristes  folk  the  flour,  5510 

Sent  eny  child  ;    but  it  is  best  to  deeme 
He  went  himsilf,  and  so  it  may  wel  seme. 

This  emperour  hath  graunted  gentilly 
To  come  to  dyner,  as  he  him  bysought ; 
And  wel  rede  I,  he  loked  besily 
Upon  the  child,  arid  on  his  doughter  thought. 
Alia  goth  to  his  in,  and  as  him  ought 
Arrayed  for  this  fest  in  every  wyse, 
As  ferforth  as  his  connyng  may  suffise. 

The  morwe  cam,  and  Alia  gan  him  dresse,  55JO 

And  ee'k  his  wyf,  the  emperour  for  to  meete  ; 
And  forth  they  ryde  in  joye  and  in  gladnesse, 
And  whan  sche  saugh  hir  fader  in  the  streete, 
Sche  light  adoun  and  falleth  him  to  feete. 
"  Fader,"  quod  sche,  "  your  yonge  child  Constance 
Is  now  ful  clene  out  of  your  rernembraunce. 

"  I  am  your  doughter  Custaunce,"  quod  sche 
"  That  whilom  ye  have  sent  unto  Surrye  ; 
It  am  I,  fader,  that  in  the  salte  see 
Was  put  alloon,  and  dampned  for  to  dye.  6r»3f» 

Now,  goode  fader,  mercy  I  you  crye, 
Send  me  no  more  unto  noon  hethenesse, 
But  tharike  my  lord  her  of  his  kyndenesso." 

Who  can  the  pytous  joye  telle  al 
Bitwix  hem  thre,  sith  they  be  thus  i-mette  ? 
But  of  my  tale  make  an  ende  I  schal ; 
The  day  goth  fast,  I  wol  no  lenger  iette. 
This  glade  folk  to  dyner  they  ben  sette  ; 
In  joye  and  blys  at  mete  I  let  hem  dwelle, 
A  thousand  fold  wel  more  than  I  can  telle.  5540 

This  child  Maurice  was  siththen  emperour 
I-maad  by  the  pope,  and  lyved  cristenly, 
To  Cristes  chirche  dede  he  gret  honour. 
But  I  let  al  his  story  passen  by, 
Of  Custaunce  is  my  tale  specially  ; 
In  olde  Roniayri  gestes  men  may  fynd 
Maurices  lyf,  I  bere  it  nought  in  mynde. 

6606.  som  men  wold  se.ye.  The  version  of  the  story  here  alluded  to  if  thai 
glTen  in  Gower's  (.'onfessio  Amantis,  book  ii.,  which  appears  to  have  )>e«B 
published  before  Chaucer's  Canterhiiry  Tales  were  compiled. 


THE  MAN  OF  LA  WES  TALE.  175 


This  kyng  Alia,  whan  he  his  tyme  say, 
With  his  Constaunce,  his  holy  wyf  so  swete, 
ro  Engelond  they  com  the  righte  way,  5550 

Wher  as  they  ly  ve  in  joye  and  in  quyete. 
But  litel  whil  it  last,  I  you  biheete, 
Joy  of  this  world  for  tyrne  wol  not  abyde, 
Fro  day  to  night  it  chaungeth  as  the  tyde. 

Who  lyved  ever  in  such  delyt  a  day, 
That  him  ne  meved  eyther  his  conscience, 
Or  ire,  or  talent,  or  som  marier  affray, 
Envy,  or  pride,  or  passiotin,  or  offence  ? 
I  ne  say  but  for  this  ende  this  sentence 
That  litel  whil  in  joye  or  in  plesaunce  55ft*1 

Lasteth  the  blis  of  Alia  with  Custaunce. 

For  deth,  that  takth  of  heigh  and  low  his  rent, 
Whan  passed  was  a  yeere,  as  I  gesse, 
Out  of  this  worlde  kyng  Alia  he  herit, 
For  whom  Custauns  hath  ful  gret  hevynesse 
Now  let  us  pray  that  God  his  soule  bles?e  ! 
And  dame  Custaunce,  fynally  to  say, 
Toward  the  toun  of  Rome  goth  hir  way. 

To  Rome  is  come  this  nobil  creature, 
And  fynt  hir  freendes  ther  bothe  hool  and  souud  ; 
Now  is  sche  skaped  al  hir  averiture.  557' 

And  wharine  sche  hir  fader  had  i-founde, 
Doun  on  hir  knees  falleth  sche  to  the  grounde, 
Wepyng  for  tendirues  in  herte  blithe 
Sche  heried  God  an  hundred  thousand  sithe. 

In  vertu  and  in  holy  almes-dede 
They  ly ven  alle,  and  never  asondre  wende  ; 
Til  deth  departe  hem,  this  lyf  they  lede. 
And  far  now  wel,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende. 
Now  Jhesu  Crist,  that  of  his  might  may  sende        5580 
Joy  after  wo,  governe  us  in  his  grace, 
And  keep  ous  alle  that  ben  in  this  place. 

THB   PROLOGE   OF  THE    WTF   OF  BATHE, 

"  EXPERIBNS,  though  noon  auctorite 
Were  in  this  world,  it  were  ynough  for  me 
To  speke  of  wo  that  is  in  mariage  ; 
For,  lordyngs,  syns  I  twelf  yer  was  of  age, 

Prolngc  of  t  lit  Wyf  of  Bathe.  The  Wife  of  Bath's  prologue  may  bo  consid- 
ered a*  a  separate  tale,  and  belongs  to  a  class  of  which  there  are  several  ex 
•mples  among-  the  literature  of  the  middle  ages.  One  of  the  latest  is  The  twn 
tnanjit  we  men  and  the  icedo  of  William  Dunbar.  The  popular  literature  ot 
what  is  commonly  looked  upon  as  the  age  of  chivalry  showi  us  that  the  female 
«bur:itler  was  then  estimated  at  tl\e  lowest  possible  rate. 

'i'liu  lliul.  Ms.  enoueoufily  places  at  the  beginning  of  this  prologue  the 


TH&  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  thank  it  God  that  is  eterne  on  lyve, 

Housbondes  atte  chirch  dore  I  have  had  fyve, 

For  I  so  ofte  might  have  weddid  be, 

And  alle  were  worthy  men  in  here  degre.  5590 

But  me  was  taught,  nought  longe  tyine  goon  is, 

That  synnes  Crist  went  never  but  onys 

To  weddyng,  in  the  Cane  of  Galile, 

That  by  the  same  ensampul  taught  he  me 

That  I  ne  n-eddid  schulde  be  but  ones. 

Lo,  herken  such  a  scharp  word  for  the  nones  ! 

Biside  a  welle  Jhesus,  God  and  man, 

Spak  in  reproef  of  the  Samaritan  : 

'  Thow  hast  y-had  fyve  housbondes,'  quod  he  ; 

'  And  that  ilk  man,  which  that  now  hath  the,        5600 

Is  nought  thin  housbond  ;  '  thus  he  sayd  certayn  ; 

What  that  he  ment  therby,  I  can  not  sayn. 

But  that  I  axe,  why  the  fyfte  man 

Was  nought  housbond  to  the  Samaritan  ? 

How  many  might  sche  have  in  mariage  ? 

Yit  herd  I  never  tellen  in  myn  age 

Uppon  this  nounibre  diffinicioun  ; 

Men  may  divine  and  glosen  up  and  doun. 

But  wel  I  wot,  withouten  eny  lye, 

God  bad  us  for  to  wax  and  rnultiplie  ;  5610 

That  gentil  tixt  can  I  wel  understonde. 

Ek  wel  I  wot,  he  sayd,  niyn  housebonde 

Sc-kuld  lete  fader  and  moder,  and  folwe  me  ; 

But  of  no  noumber  mencioun  made  he, 

prologue  of  the  Shipman's  Tale.  Some  of  the  MS?,  collated  by  Tyrwhitt,  in 
which  the  Merchant's  Tale  follows  the  Man  of  Law,  have  the  following  intro- 
ductory lines  : 

Oure  oost  gan  tho  to  loke  up  anon. 

''  Gode  men,"  quod  he,  "  herkeneth  everichone, 

As  evere  mote  I  drynke  wyn  or  ale, 

This  mar-chant  hath  i-told  a  men'  tale, 

Howe  Januarie  hadde  a  lither  jape, 

His  wyf  put  in  his  hood  an  ape. 

But  hereof  I  wil  leve  off  as  now. 

Dame  wyf  of  Bathe,"  quod  he,  "  I  pray  you, 

Tellrt  us  a  tale  now  nexte  after  this." 

"  Sir  cost,"  -)uod  she,  "  so  God  my  soule  blia  ! 

As  I  fully  thereto  wil  consents  ; 

And  also  it  is  myn  hole  entente 

To  done  vow  alle  disporte  as  that  I  can. 

But  holde  me  excused  ;  I  am  a  woman, 

I  can  not  reherse  as  these  clerkes  kuune." 

And  right  anou  she  hath  hir  tale  bygunnp 

!•  lie  M»   Lmnsdowne  there  are  four  introductory  lino*  : 

Than  schortly  ansewarde  the  wife  of  Bailie, 
And  swore  a  wonder  grete  hathe. 
"  I5e  Goddes  bones,  1  wil  tel  next, 
I  wille  nouht  glose,  but  s*ye  the  text. 
Experiment,  though  nono  auctorite,"  #$«•. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BATHE.       177 

Of  by  pain  ye  or  of  octogamye  ; 

Why  schuld  men  speken  of  that  vilonye  ? 

Lo  hier  the  wise  kyng  daun  Salamon, 

I  trow  he  haddc  wifes  mo  than  oon, 

As  wold  God  it  were  leful  unto  me 

To  be  refreisshed  half  so  oft  as  he  !  5620 

Which  gift  of  God  had  he  for  alle  his  wyvys  ? 

No  man  hath  such,  that  in  the  world  on  lyve  is. 

God  wot,  this  nobil  king,  as  to  my  wit, 

The  firste  night  had  many  a  mery  fit 

With  ech  of  hem,  so  wel  was  him  on  lyve. 

1-blessid  be  God  that  I  have  weddid  fyve  ! 

Welcome  the  sixte  whan  that  ever  he  schal. 

Fof  sothe  I  nyl  not  kepe  me  chast  in  al  ; 

Whan  myn  housbond  is  fro  the  world  i-gon, 

Soin  cristne  man  schal  wedde  me  anoon,  5630 

For  than  thapostil  saith  that  I  am  fre 

To  wedde,  a  goddis  haf,  wher  so  it  be. 

He  saith,  that  to  be  weddid  is  no  synne  ; 

Bet  is  to  be  weddid  than  to  brynne. 

What  recchith  me  what  folk  sayn  vilonye 

Of  schrewith  Lameth,  and  of  his  bigamye  ? 

I  wol  wel  Abram  was  an  holy  man, 

And  Jacob  eek,  as  ferforth  as  I  can, 

And  ech  of  hem  had  wyves  mo  than  tuo, 

And  many  another  holy  man  also.  5640 

Whan  sawe  ye  in  eny  maner  age 

That  highe  God  defendid  mariage 

By  expres  word  ?     I  pray  yow  tellith  me  ; 

Or  wher  coinmaunded  he  virginite  ? 

I  wot  as  wel  as  ye,  it  is  no  drede, 

Thapostil,  whan  he  spekth  of  maydenhede, 

He  sayd,  that  precept  therof  had  he  noon  ; 

Men  may  counseil  a  womman  to  be  oon, 

But  counselyng  nys  no  comaundement ; 

He  put  it  in  our  owne  juggement.  5$T»C 

For  hadde  God  comaundid  maydenhede, 

Than  had  he  dampnyd  weddyng  with  the  dede  ; 

And  certes,  if  ther  were  no  seed  i-sowe 

662C.    The  second  Cambridge  Ms.  and  some  MSS.  quoted  ly  Tj:whiU  a<H 
kftor  this  verse : 

Of  whiche  I  have  pyked  out  the  beste 

Bothe  of  here  nethur  purs  and  of  here  chegte. 

Diverse  scoles  maken  parfyt  clcikes, 

And  diverse  practyk  in  many  sondry  werke* 

Waken  the  workman  parfyt  sekirly  : 

Of  live  husbondes  scoleryug  am  I, 

Welcome  Uio  sixthe,  etc. 

to 


178  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Virginite  wheron  schuld  it  growe? 

Poul  ne  dorst  not  comaunde  atte  lest 

A  thing,  of  which  his  maister  gaf  non  hes 

The  dart  is  set  upon  virginite, 

Cacti  who  so  may,  who  rennith  best  let  se. 

But  this  word  is  noi  taken  of  every  wight, 

But  ther  as  Gfod  list  give  it  of  his  might. 

I  wot  wel  that  thapostil  was  a  mayde, 

But  natheles,  though  that  he  wrot  or  sayoe. 

He  wolde  that  every  wight  were  such  as  he, 

Al  nys  but  counseil  unto  virginite. 

And  for  to  ben  a  wyf  he  gaf  me  leve, 

Of  indulgence,  so  nys  it  to  repreve 

To  wedde  me,  if  that  my  make  deye, 

Withoute  excepcioun  of  bigainye  ; 

Al  were  it  good  no  wominan  for  to  touche, 

(He  mente  in  his  bed  or  in  his  couche)  5670 

For  peril  is  bothe  fuyr  and  tow  to  assemble  ; 

Ye  knowe  what  this  ensample  wold  resemble. 

This  is  al  and  som,  he  holdith  virginite 

More  parfit  than  weddyng  in  frelte 

(Frelte  clepe  I,  but  if  that  he  and  sche 

Wold  leden  al  ther  life  in  chastite). 

I  graunt  it  wel,  I  have  noon  envye, 

Though  rnaidenhede  preferre  bygamye  ; 

It  liketh  hem  to  be  clene  in  body  and  gost ; 

Of  myn  estate  I  nyl  make  no  bost.  5680 

For  wel  ye  wot,  a  lord  in  his  houshold 

He  nath  not  every  vessel  ful  of  gold  ; 

Som  ben  of  tre,  and  don  her  lord  servise. 

God  clepeth  folk  to  him  in  sondry  wise, 

And  every  hath  of  God  a  propre  gifte, 

Som  this,  som  that,  as  him  likith  to  schifte. 

Virginite  is  gret  perfeccioun, 

And  contiiiens  eek  with  gret  devocioun  ; 

But  Christ,  that  of  perfeccioun  is  welle, 

Bad  nought  every  wight  schuld  go  and  selle 

Al  that  he  had,  and  give  it  to  the  pore, 

And  in  such  wise  folwe  him  arid  his  fore. 

lie  spak  to  hem  that  wolde  lyve  parfytly, 

And,  lordyngs,  by  your  leve,  that  am  not  I 

I  wol  bystowe  the  Hour  of  myn  age 

In  the  actes  and  in  the  fruytes  of  manage. 

Tei  me  also,  to  what  conclusioun 

Were  membres  maad  of  generacioun, 

C681.  a  lord  in  his  household.    See  2  Tim.  il,  20. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BATHE.        179 

And  of  so  parfit  wise  a  wight  y-wrought  ? 

Trustith  right  wel,  thay  were  nought  maad  for  nought. 

Glose  who  so  wol,  and  say  bothe  up  and  doun,       5701 

That  thay  were  made  for  purgacioun, 

Oure  bothe  uryn,  and  thiriges  smale, 

Were  eek  to  knowe  a  femel  fro  a  male  ; 

And  for  non  other  cause  ?  say  ye  no  ? 

Thexperiens  wot  wel  it  is  not  so. 

So  that  these  clerke  ben  not  with  me  wrothe, 

I  say  this,  that  thay  makid  ben  for  bothe, 

This  is  to  say,  for  office  and  for  ease 

Of  engendrure,  ther  we  God  nought  displease.          5710 

Why  schuld  men  elles  in  her  bokes  sette, 

That-man  schal  yelde  to  his  wif  his  dette  ? 

Now  wherwith  schuld  he  make  his  payement, 

If  he  ne  used  his  sely  instrument  ? 

Than  were  thay  maad  up  a  creature 

To  purge  uryn,  and  eek  for  engendrure. 

But  I  say  not  that  every  wight  is  holde, 

That  hath  such  harneys  as  I  to  yow  tolde, 

To  gon  and  usen  hem  in  engendrure  ; 

Than  schuld  men  take  of  chastite  no  cure.  5720 

Crist  was  a  mayde,  and  schapen  as  a  man, 

And  many  a  seynt,  sin  that  the  world  bygan, 

Yet  lyved  thay  ever  in  parfyt  chastite. 

I  nyl  envye  no  virginite. 

Let  hem  be  bred  of  pured  whete  seed, 

And  let  us  wyves  eten  barly  breed. 

Arid  yet  with  barly  bred,  men  telle  can, 

Oure  Lord  Jhesu  refreisschid  many  a  man. 

In  such  astaat  as  God  hath  cleped  ous 

I  wil  perse ver,  I  am  not  precious  ;  5730 

In  wyfhode  I  wil  use  myn  instrument 

Als  frely  as  my  maker  hath  me  it  sent. 

If  I  be  daungerous,  God  give  me  sorwe, 

Myn  Lousbond  schal  nan  it  at  eve  and  morwe, 

Whan  that  him  list  com  forth  and  pay  his  dette 

An  housbond  wol  I  have,  I  wol  not  lette, 

Which  schal  be  bothe  my  dettour  and  my  thral. 

And  have  his  tribulaciouri  withal 

Upon  his  fleissch,  whil  that  I  am  his  wyf. 

I  have  the  power  duryng  al  my  lif  5740 

Upon  his  propre  body,  arid  not  he  ; 

Right  thus  thapostil  told  it  unto  me, 

And  lad  oure  housbondes  for  to  love  us  wel  j 

Al  this  sentence  me  likith  every  del." 

5699.  And  of  so  parfit  wise.    The  MB.  Harl.  reads,  And  in  what  trite.   Some 
M>.  read  and  why,  instead  of  a  wight. 


180  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


(TP  start  the  pardoner,  and  that  anoon  ; 
"  Now,  dame,"  quod  he,  "  by  God  and  by  seint  Jon, 
Ye  ben  a  noble  prechour  in  this  caas. 
I  was  aboute  to  wedde  a  wif,  allaas  ! 
What  ?  schal  I  buy  it  on  my  fleisch  so  deere  ? 
Yit  had  I  lever  wedde  no  wyf  to  yere  !  "  5750 

"  Abyd,"  quod  sche,  "  my  tale  is  not  bygonne. 
Nay,  thou  schalt  drinke  of  another  tonne 
Er  that  I  go,  schal  savere  wors  than  ale. 
And  whan  that  I  have  told  the  forth  my  tale 
Of  tiibulacioun  in  manage, 
Of  which  I  am  expert  in  all  myn  age, 
This  is  to  say,  myself  hath  ben  the  whippe  ; 
Than  might  thou  chese  whethir  thou  wilt  sippe 
Of  thilke  tonne,  that  I  schal  abroche. 
Be  war  of  it,  er  thou  to  neigh  approche.  5760 

For  I  schal  telle  ensamples  mo  than  ten  : 
Who  so  that  nyl  be  war  by  other  men 
By  him  schal  other  men  corrected  be. 
The  same  wordes  writes  Ptholome, 
Rede  in  his  Almagest,  and  tak  it  there." 
"  Dame,  I  wold  pray  you,  if  that  youre  wille  were," 
Sayde  this  pardoner,  "  as  ye  bigan, 
Tel  forth  youre  tale,  and  sparith  for  no  man, 
Teche  us  yorigemen  of  youre  practike." 
"Gladly,"  quod  sche,  "  syns  it  may  yow  like.  5770 

But  that  I  pray  to  al  this  companye, 
If  that  I  speke  after  my  fantasie, 
As  taketh  nought  agreef  of  that  I  say, 
For  myn  entente  is  nought  but  to  play. 

"  Now,  sires,  now  wol  I  telle  forth  my  tale. 
As  ever  mote  I  drinke  wyn  or  ale, 
I  schal  say  soth  of  housbondes  that  I  hadde, 
As  thre  of  hem  were  goode,  and  tuo  were  ba  ide. 
Tuo  of  hem  were  goode,  riche,  and  olde  ; 
Unnethes  mighte  thay  the  statute  holde,  5780 

In  which  that  thay  were  bounden  unto  me  ; 
Ye  wot  wel  what  I  mene  of  this  parde  ! 
As  help  me  God,  I  laugh  whan  that  I  thinke, 
How  pitously  on  night  I  made  hem  swynke, 
But,  by  my  fay  1  I  told  of  it  no  stoor  : 
Thay  had  me  give  her  lond  and  her  tresor, 

6764.  Ptkolomt.  The  wife  of  Bath's  quotations  from  Ptolemy,  here,  an<l 
at  1.  5906,  are  not,  it  appears,  to  be  found  in  the  Almagest.  She  seems  to 
quote  Ptolemy  when  she  cannot  father  an  opinion  upon  anybody  else. 

5779.  Tuo  of  hem.  The  more  common  reading  of  the  MBS.  is,  The  thre  were. 
which  is  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BATHE         181 

Me  nedith  not  no  lender  doon  diligence 

To  wynne  her  love  or  doon  hem  reverence. 

Thay  loved  rue  so  wel,  by  God  above  ! 

That  I  tolde  no  deynte  of  her  love.  57i.iO 

A  wys  womman  wol  bysi  hir  ever  in  0011 

To  gete  hir  love,  there  sche  hath  noon. 

But  synnes  I  had  hein  holly  in  myn  horid, 

And  synnes  thay  had  me  geven  al  her  lond^ 

What  schuld  I  take  keep  hern  for  to  please, 

But  it  were  for  my  profyt,  or  myn  ease  ? 

I  sette  hem  so  on  werke,  by  my  fay  ! 

That  many  a  night  thay  songen  weylaway. 

The  bacoun  was  nought  fet  for  hem,  I  trowe, 

Thatnsom  men  fecche  in  Esses:  at  Donmowe.  5800 

I  governed  hem  so  wel  after  my  lawe, 

That  ech  of  hem  ful  blisful  was  and  fawe 

To  bringe  me  gaye  thinges  fro  the  faire. 

Thay  were  ful  glad  whan  I  spak  to  hem  faire ; 

For,  God  it  woot,  1  chidde  hem  spitously. 

Now  herkeneth  how  I  bar  me  proprely. 

Ye  wise  wyves,  that  can  understonde, 

Thus  scholde  ye  speke,  and  bere  hem  wrong  on  honde ; 

For  half  so  boldely  can  ther  no  man 

Swere  and  lye  as  a  womman  can.  5810 

(I  say  not  by  wyves  that  ben  wise, 

But  if  it  be  whan  thay  ben  mysavise.) 

I-wis  a  wif,  if  that  sche  can  hir  good, 

Schal  beren  him  on  hond  the  cow  is  wood, 

And  take  witnes  on  hir  oughne  rnayde 

Of  hire  assent ;  but  herkenith  how  I  sayde. 

See,  olde  caynard,  is  this  thin  array  ? 

Why  is  my  neghebores  wif  so  gay  ? 

5799.  tha  bacoun.  The  Dunmow  bacon  appears  to  have  been  in  groat  rei>- 
utation  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  The  following  noti  e  of 
this  curious  custom  is  found  among  some  poetry  of  the  hitter  period,  printed 
in  the  ItaltqitUs  Anliq.  ii.  p.  29  : 

I  can  fynd  no  man  now  that  wille  enquere 
The  parfyte  wais  unto  Dunmow  ! 
For  they  repent  hem  within  a  yerc, 
And  many  within  a  weke,  and  eonuer,  men  trow  ; 
That  cawsith  the  wais  to  be  rowgh  and  overgrow, 
That  no  man  may  fynd  path  or  gap, 
The  world  is  turnyd"  to  another  sliap. 

5810.  swere  and  lye.  A  parallel  passage  is  quoted  by  TyrwhKt  fronci  tho 
Roman  de  la  Rose :  . 

Car  plus  hardiment  quo  nulz  homs 
Certainement  jurent  et  menteut. 

-1817.  "  In  the  following  speech,  it  would  be  endless  to  produce  all  Chau- 
»sr'8  imitations.  The  beginning  is  from  the  fragment  of  Theophrastus 
quoted  by  St.  Jerome  c.  Jovin,  1.  i.,  and  by  John  of  Salisbury,  1'oiycrat.  lib, 
riii.  c.  Jti.  ;  see  also  Horn,  de  la  It.  v.  89C7.  et  suiv."—  Tyrwtiitt. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Sche  is  honoured  over  al  ther  sche  goth  ; 

I  sitte  at  horn,  I  have  no  thrifty  cloth.  5820 

What  dostow  at  my  neighebores  hous  ? 

Is  sche  so  fair  ?  what,  artow  amorous? 

What  roune  ye  with  hir  maydenes  ?  benedicite, 

Sir  olde  lecchour,  let  thi  japes  be. 

And  if  I  have  a  gossib,  or  a  frend 

Withouten  gilt,  thou  chidest  as  a  fend, 

If  that  I  walk  or  play  unto  his  hous. 

Thou  comest  horn  as  dronken  as  a  mous, 

And  prechist  on  thy  bench,  with  evel  preef, 

Thou  saist  to  ine,  it  is  a  gret  meschief  5880 

To  wedde  a  pover  womman,  for  costage  ; 

And  if  that  sche  be  riche  and  of  parage, 

Thanne  saist  thou,  that  it  is  a  tormentrie 

To  suffre  hir  pride  and  hir  malencolie. 

And  if  that  sche  be  fair,  thou  verray  knave, 

Thou  saist  that  every  holour  wol  hir  have  ; 

Sche  may  no  while  in  chastite  abyde, 

That  is  assayled  thus  on  eche  syde. 

Thou  saist  that  som  folk  desire  us  for  riches, 

Som  for  our  schap,  and  som  for  our  fairnes,  5840 

And  some,  for  that  sche  can  synge  and  daunce, 

And  some  for  geritilesse  o-r  daliaunce, 

Som  for  hir  handes  and  hir  armes  smale  : 

Thus  goth  al  to  the  devel  by  thi  tale. 

Thou  saist,  men  may  nought  kepe  a  castel  wal, 

It  may  so  be  biseged  over  al. 

And  if  sche  be  foul,  thanne  thou  saist,  that  sche 

Coveitith  every  man  that  sche  may  se  ; 

For,  as  a  spaynel,  sche  wol  on  him  lepe, 

Til  that  sche  fynde  som  man  hire  to  chepe.  5850 

Ne  noon  so  gray  a  goos  goth  in  the  lake, 

As  sayest  thou,  wol  be  withouten  make. 

And  saist,  it  is  an  hard  thing  for  to  wolcle 

Thing,  that  no  man  wol  his  willes  holde. 

Thus  seistow,  lorel,  whan  thou  gost  to  bedde, 

And  that  no  wys  man  nedith  for  to  wedde, 

Ne  no  man  that  entendith  unto  hevene. 

5828.  dronken  as  a  mous.    This  was  a  common  phrase.    In  the  satiric* 
do«m  of  Doctour  Double-ale,  we  have  the  lines  : 
Then  seke  another  housef 
This  is  not  worth  a  louse  ; 
As  dronken  a,s  a  mouse. 

Among  the  letters  relating  to  the  suppreF?i.->n  of  monasteries  (Camd.  Soc. 
fabl.  p.  133),  there  is  one  from  a  monk  of  Pershore  who  says  that  his  brother 
jaonks  of  that  house,  "  drynk  an  bowll  after  collacyon  tell  ten  or  ill.  of  th« 
clock,  aud  cum  tc  matteus  a*  dronck  as  mys, 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BA2  HE.        183 

With  wilde  thunder  dynt  and  fuyry  levene 

Mote  thi  wicked  necke  be  to-broke  ! 

Thou  saist,  that  drcppyng  hous,  and  eek  smoke,     5860 

And  chydyng  wyves  inaken  men  to  fle 

Out  of  here  oughne  hous  ;  a,  benedicite, 

What  eylith  such  an  old  man  for  to  chyde  ? 

Thou  seist,  we  wyves  woln  oure  vices  hide, 

Til  we  ben  weddid,  and  than  we  wil  hem  schewo. 

Wei  may  that  be  a  proverbe  of  a  schrewe. 

Thou  saist,  that  assen,  oxen,  and  houndes, 

Thay  ben  assayed  at  divers  stoundes, 

Basyns,  lavours  eek,  er  men  hem  bye, 

Spoiies,  stooles,  and  al  such  housbondrie,  5870 

Also  pottes,  clothes,  and  array, 

But  folk  of  wyves  inaken  non  assay, 

Til  thay  ben  weddid,  olde  dotard  schrewe  ! 

And  thanne,  saistow,  we  woln  oure  vices  schewe. 

Thou  saist  also,  that  it  disp'esith  me 

But  if  that  thou  wilt  praysen  my  beaute, 

And  but  thou  pore  alway  in  my  face, 

And  clepe  me  faire  dame  in  every  place  \ 

And  but  thou  make  a  fest  on  thilke  day 

That  I  was  bom,  and  make  me  freisch  and  gay;     5880 

And  but  thou  do  my  norice  hcnoure, 

And  to  my  chain berer  withinne  my  boure, 

And  to  my  fadres  folk,  and  myn  allies  : 

Thus  saistow,  olde  barel  ful  of  lies  ! 

And  yit  of  oure  apprentys  Jankyn, 

For  his  crisp  her,  schynyng  as  gold  so  fyn, 

And  for  he  squiereth  me  up  and  doun, 

Yet  hastow  caught  a  fals  suspeccioun  ; 

I  nyl  him  nought,  though  thou  were  deed  to  morwe. 

But  tel  me  wherfor  hydestow  with  sorwe  5890 

The  keyes  of  thy  chist  away  fro  me  ? 

It  is  my  good  as  wel  as  thin,  parde. 

"  What !  wenest  thou  make  an  ydiot  of  oure  dame " 
Now  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  seint  Jame, 
Thow  schalt  not  bothe,  though  thou  were  wood, 
Be  maister  of  my  body  and  of  my  good  ; 
That  oon  thou  sehalt  forgo  maugre  thin  yen  ! 
What  helpeth  it  on  me  tenquereii  or  espien  ? 
I  trowe  thou  woldest  lokke  me  in  thy  chest. 
Thou  scholdist  say,  '  \vif,  go  whei  the  lest  ;  5905 

Take  youre  disport ;  1  nyl  lieve  no  talis  ; 
I  know  yow  for  a  trewe  wif,  dame  Alis.' 
We  loveth  no  man,  that  takith  keep  or  charge 
Wher  that  we  goon  ;  we  love  to  be  at  large. 


184  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

11  Of  alle  men  i-blessed  most  he  be 
The  wise  astrologe  daun  Ptholonu?, 
That  saith  this  proverbe  in  his  Almagest  : 
Of  alle  men  his  wisedom  is  highest, 
That  rekkith  not  who  hath  the  world  in  honde. 
By  this  proverbe  thou  schalt  understonde,  5913 

Have  thou  ynongh,  what  thar  the  recch  or  care 
How  merily  that  other  folkes  fare  ? 
For  certes,  olde  dotard,  with  your  leve, 
Ye  schul  have  queynte  right  ynough  at  eve. 
He  is  to  gret  a  nygard  that  wol  werne 
A  man  to  light  a  candel  at  his  lanterne  ; 
He  schal  have  never  the  lasse  light,  pardo. 
Have  thou  ynough,  the  thar  not  pleyne  the. 

"  Thou  saist  also,  that  if  we  make  us  gay 
With  clothing  and  with  precious  array,  5920 

That  it  is  peril  of  our  chastite. 
And  yit,  with  sorwe,  thou  most  enforce  the, 
And  say  these  wordes  in  thapostles  name  : 
In  abyt  maad  with  chastite  and  schaine 
Ye  wommen  schuld  apparayl  yow,  quod  he, 
And  nought  with  tressed  her,  and  gay  perre, 
As  perles,  ne  with  golden  clothis  riche. 
After  thy  text,  ne  after  thin  rubriche, 
I  wol  nought  wirche  as  moche  as  a  gnat. 
Thow  saist  thus  that  I  was  lik  a  cat ;  5930 

For  who  so  wolde  senge  the  cattes  skyn, 
Than  wold  the  catte  duellen  in  his  in  ; 
And  if  the  cattes  skyn  be  slyk  and  gay, 
Sche  wol  not  duelle  in  house  half  a  day, 
But  forth  sche  wil,  er  eny  day  be  da  wet, 
To  sche  we  hir  skyn.  and  goon  a  cater  wra  wet. 
This  is  to  say,  if  I  be  gay,  sir  schrewe, 
I  wol  renne  aboute,  my  borel  for  to  sche  we. 
Sir  olde  fool,  what  helpith  the  to  aspien  ? 
Though  thou  praydest  Argus  with  his  hundricl  yen 
To  be  my  wardecorps,  as-  he  can  best,  5941 

In  faith  he  schuld  not  kepe  me  but  if  he  lest ; 
Yit  couthe  I  make  his  berd,  though  queynte  he  be. 
Thou  saydest  eek,  that  ther  ben  thinges  thre, 
The  whiche  thinges  troublen  al  this  erthe, 
And  that  no  wight  may  endure  the  f erthe. 
O  leve  sire  schrewe,  Jhesu  schorte  thy  lif  I 
Yit  prechestow,  arid  saist,  an  hateful  wif 
I-rekened  is  for  oon  of  these  meschaunces. 
Ben  ther  noon  other  of  thy  resemblaunces  5950 

»)23.  thapostles  name.    See  1  Tim.  ii.  9. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BATHE.        185 

Then  ye  may  liken  youre  parables  unto, 

But  if  a  cely  wyf  be  oon  of  tho  ? 

Thow  likenest  womuiannes  love  to  helle, 

To  bareyn  loud,  ther  water  may  not  duelle. 

Thou  likenest  it  also  to  wilde  fuyr  ; 

The  more  it  brenneth,  the  more  it  hath  desir 

To  consume  every  thing,  that  brent  wol  be. 

Thou  saist,  right  as  wormes  schenden  a  tre, 

Right  so  a  wit'  schendith  hir  housebonde  ; 

This  knowen  tho  that  ben  to  wyves  bonde.  5960 

Lordynges,  right  thus,  as  ye  han  understoride. 

Bar  I  styf  myn  housebondes  on  honde, 

That  thus  thay  sayde  in  her  dronkenesse  ; 

And  al-was  fals,  but  that  I  took  witnesse 

On  Jankyn,  and  upon  my  nece  also. 

0  Lord,  the  peyne  I  dede  hem,  and  the  wo, 
Ful  gulteless,  by  Goddes  swete  pyrie  ; 

For  as  an  hors,  I  couthe  bothe  bite  and  whyrie; 

1  couthe  pleyiie,  and  yet  I  was  in  the  gilt, 

Or  elles  I  hadde  often  tyme  be  spilt.  6970 

Who  so  first  cometh  to  the  mylle,  first  grynt  ; 

1  pleyried  first,  so  was  oure  werre  stynt. 

Thay  Avere  ful  glad  to  excuse  hem  ful  blyvo 

Of  thing,  that  thay  never  agilt  in  her  lyve. 

And  wenches  wold  I  beren  hem  on  houde, 

Whan  that  for  seek  thay  might  unnethes  stonde, 

Yit  tykeled  I  his  herte  for  that  he 

Wende  I  had  of  him  so  gret  chierete. 

I  swor  that  al  my  walkyng  out  a  nyght 

Was  for  to  aspie  wenches  that  he  dight.  5980 

Under  that  colour  had  I  many  a  mirthe. 

For  al  such  witte  is  geven  us  of  birthe  ; 

Deceipt,  wepyng,  spynnyng,  God  hath  give 

To  wyiumen  kyndeJy,  whii  thay  may  lyve. 

And  thus  of  o  thing  I  avaunte  me, 

At  theride  1  had  the  bet  in  ech  degre, 

By  sleight  or  fors,  or  of  som  maner  thing, 

As  by  continuel  murmur,  or  chidyng, 

Namly  on  bedde,  hadderi  thay  rueschaunce, 

Ther  wold  I  chide,  and  do  hem  no  plesaunce  ; 


5971.  to  the  mylle.  This  proverb  is  found  also  in  French,  in  the  fifteer.tt 
century  :  Qui  premier  vient  au  moulin  premier  doit  mouldre. 

5983.  tlfceip*.  This  p^pwars  to  have  been  a  popular  saying  :  in  the  margin 
of  the  Laaisdowiie  MB.  it  is  given  in  a  Latiu  leonine,  thus  : 

Fallere,  '    re,  nore,  dedit  Deus  in  muliere. 
5968   chiding.    Mo»        ^e  MSS.  have,  with  Tyrwhitt,  grucckynq 


186  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

1  wold  no  lender  in  the  bed  abyde, 

If  that  I  felt  his  arm  over  my  syde, 

Til  he  had  maad  his  raunsoun  unto  me, 

Than  wold  I  suffre  him  doon  his  nycete. 

And  therfor  every  man  this  tale  telle, 

Wynne  who  so  may,  for  al  is  for  to  selle  ; 

With  empty  hond  men  may  noon  haukes  lure, 

For  wynnyng  wold  I  al  his  lust  endure, 

And  make  me  a  feyned  appetyt, 

And  yit  in  bacoun  had  I  never  delyt ;  6000 

That  made  me  that  ever  I  wold  hem  chyde. 

.For  though  the  pope  had  seten  hem  bisyde, 

I  nold  not  spare  hem  at  her  oughne  bord, 

For,  by  my  trouthe,  I  quyt  hem  word  for  word. 

Als  help  me  verray  God  omnipotent, 

Though  1  right  now  schuld  make  my  testament, 

I  ove  hem  nought  a  word,  that  it  nys  quitte, 

1  brought  it  so  aboute  by  my  witte, 

That  tha>r  most  geve  it  up,  as  for  the  best, 

Or  ellis  had  we  never  ben  in  rest.  6010 

For  though  he  loked  as  a  grym  lyoun. 

Yit  schuld  he  fayle  of  his  conclusioun. 

Than  wold  I  say,  '  now,  goode  leef,  tak  keep, 

How  mekly  lokith  Wilkyn  our  scheep  ! 

Com  ner,  my  spouse,  let  me  ba  thy  cheke. 

Ye  schulde  be  al  pacierit  and  meke, 

And  have  a  swete  spiced  consciens, 

Siththen  ye  preche  so  of  Jobes  paciens. 

Suffreth  alway,  syns  ye  so  wel  can  preche, 

And  but  ye  do,  certeyn  we  schul  yow  teche  6020 

That  it  is  fair  to  have  a  wyf  in  pees. 

On  of  us  tuo  mot  bo  we  douteles ; 

And,  siththen  man  is  more  resonable 

Thau  womman  is,  ye  moste  be  sufi'rable. 

What  aylith  yow  thus  for  to  grucche  and  grone  ? 

It  is  for  ye  wold  have  my  queynt  allone  ? 

Why,  tak  it  al ;  lo,  have  it  every  del. 

Peter  !  1  schrewe  yow  but  ye  love  it  wel. 

For  if  I  wolde  selle  my  bele  chose, 

I  couthe  walk  as  freisch  as  eny  rose,  6030 

But  I  wol  kepe  it  for  youre  owne  toth. 

Ye  ben  to  blame,  by  God,  I  say  yow  soth  1 ' 

Such  maner  wordes  hadde  we  on  honde. 

Now  wol  1  speke  of  my  fourth  housbonde. 

6028.  Peter!  This  ia  a  very  common  exclamation,  from  St.  Peter;  a*  Ma- 
rie !  from  the  Virgin.  St.  lYter,  as  the  reputed  bead  of  the  papacy,  IUKKJ 
bigU  among  the  *ainte  in  the  Romish  Church. 


TEE  PROLOGE  OF  TEE  WYF  OF  BATHE         147 

My  fourthe  housbond  was  a  revelour, 

Tliis  is  to  say,  he  had  a  paramour, 

And  I  was  yong  and  ful  of  ragerie, 

Stiborn  and  strong,  and  joly  as  a  pye. 

How  couthe  1  daunce  to  an  harpe  sinale, 

And  synge  y-wys  as  eny  nightyngale,  VM9 

Whan  I  had  dronke  a  draught  of  swete  wyn. 

Motillius,  the  fonle  cherl,  the  swyn, 

That  with  a  staf  byraft  his  wyf  hir  lyf 

For  sche  drank  wyn,  though  I  had  ben  his  wif, 

Ne  schuld  nought  have  daunted  ine  fro  drink  ; 

And  after  wyn  on  Venus  most  I  think. 

For  al  so  siker  as  cold  engendrith  hayl, 

A  likprous  mouth  most  have  a  licorous  tail. 

In  wymmen  vinolent  is  no  defens, 

This  knowen  lecchours  by  experiens.  6050 

But,  lord  Crist,  whan  that  it  remembrith  ine 

Upon  my  youthe,  and  on  my  jolite, 

It  tikelith  me  about  uiyn  herte-roote. 

Unto  this  day  it  doth  myri  herte  boote, 

That  I  have  had  my  world  as  in  my  tyrne. 

But  age,  alias  I  that  al  wol  envenyme, 

Hath  me  bireft  my  beaute  and  my  pith  ; 

Let  go,  farwel,  the  devyl  go  therwith. 

The  flour  is  goon,  ther  nis  no  more  to  telle, 

The  bran,  as  I  best  can,  now  mot  I  selle.  6GM 

But  yit  to  be  mery  wol  I  fonde. 

Novf  wol  I  telle  of  my  fourt  housbonde. 

I  say,  I  had  in  herte  gret  despyt, 

That  he  of  eny  other  had  delit ; 

But  he  was  quit,  by  God  and  by  seint  Joce ; 

I  made  him  of  the  same  woode  a  croce, 

Nought  of  my  body  in  no  foul  manere, 

But  corteynly  1  made  folk  such  chere, 

That  in  his  owne  grees  I  made  him  frie 

For  anger,  and  for  verray  jalousie.  607? 

By  God,  in  erthe  I  was  his  purgatory, 

For  which  I  hope  his  soule  be  in  glory. 

For,  God  it  wot,  he  sat  ful  stille  and  song. 

Whan  that  his  scho  ful  bitterly  him  wrong. 

Ther  was  no  wight,  sauf  God  and  he,  that  wist 

6042.  <}fetillitis.  This  anecdote  is  taken  from  Valerius  Maximua,  lib.  T). 
e.  3,  ex.9.  The  same  story  is  toUl  by  Pliny,  Hint.  Nat.  xiv.  13,  but  for  f^gna 
tins  Metellus  he  substitutes  the  nauie  of  Mecenius. 

S0t>5.  seint  Joce,    A  French  saint,  known  in  Latin  as  St.  Judocus. 

6074.  his  scho.  An  allusion  to  the  story  of  tlie  Roman  sage,  who,  when 
blamed  for  divorcing  his  wife,  said  that  a  shoe  might  appear  outwardly  to 
Kt  well,  but  :;o  one  but  the  wearer  knew  where  it  piuchsil. 


188  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

In  many  wyse  how  sore  I  him  twist. 

He  dyed  whan  I  cain  fro  Jerusalem, 

And  lith  i-gravo  under  the  roode-bem  ; 

Al  is  his  tombe  nought  so  curious 

As  was  the  sepulcre  of  him  Darius,  G080 

Which  that  Appellus  wrought  so  subtily. 

It  nys  but  wast  to  burie  him  preciouslv. 

Let  him  farwel,  God  give  his  soule  rest, 

lie  is  now  in  his  grave  and  in  his  chest. 

"  Now  of  my  fifte  housbond  wol  I  telle  ; 
God  let  his  soule  never  come  in  helle  ! 
And  yet  was  he  to  me  the  moste  schrewe, 
That  fele  1  on  my  ribbes  alle  on  rewe, 
And  ever  schal,  unto  myn  endyng  day. 
But  in  oure  bed  he  was  so  freisch  and  gay,  6090 

And  therwithal  so  wel  he  couthe  me  glose, 
Whan  that  he  wold  have  my  bele  chose, 
That,  though  he  had  me  bete  on  every  boon, 
He  couthe  wynne  my  love  right  anoon. 
I  trowe,  I  loved  him  beste,  for  that  he 
Was  of  his  love  daungerous  to  me. 
We  wymmen  han,  if  that  I  schal  nought  lye, 
In  this  matier  a  queynte  fantasie. 
Wayte,  what  thyng  we  may  not  lightly  have, 
Therafter  wol  we  sonnest  crie  and  crave.  6^00 

Forbeed  us  thing,  and  that  desire  we  ; 
Pres  on  us  fast,  and  thanne  wol  we  fle. 
With  daunger  outen  alle  we  oure  ware  ; 
Greet  pres  at  market  makith  deer  chaffare, 
And  to  greet  ohep  is  holden  at  litel  pris; 
This  knowith  every  womman  that  is  wys. 
'tiy  fyfth  housbond,  God  his  soule  blesse, 
Vv'hich  that  I  took  for  love  and  no  richesse, 
He  som  tyme  was  a  clerk  of  Oxenford, 
And  had  left  scole,  and  went  at  hoom  to  borde         8110 
With  my  gossib,  duellyng  in  oure  toun  • 
God  have  hir  soule,  hir  name  was  Alisoun. 
Sche  knew  myn  herte  and  my  privete 
Bet  than  oure  parisch  prest,  so  mot  I  the. 
To  hir  by  wreyed  I  my  counseil  al ; 
For  had  myn  housbond  pissed  on  a  wal, 
Or  don  a  thing  that  schuld  have  cost  his  lif, 
To  hir:  and  to  another  worthy  wyf, 
And  to  my  neece,  which  I  loved  wel, 
I  wold  have  told  his  counseil  every  del.  6120 

And  so  I  did  ful  ofte,  God  it  woot, 
That  made  his  face  ofte  reed  and  hoot 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  TUE   WYF  OF  BATHE.        189 

For  verry  schame,  and  blaniyd  himself,  that  b* 

Had  told  to  me  so  gret  a  privete.    ' 

And  so  byfel  that  oones  in  a  Lent, 

(So  ofte  tyme  to  my  gossib  I  went, 

For  ever  yit  I  loved  to  be  gay, 

And  for  to  walk  in  March,  Averil,  and  May 

Froii  hous  to  hous,  to  here  sondry  talis) 

That  Jankyn  clerk,  and  my  gossib  dame  Alia,  8180 

And  I  myself,  into  the  feldes  went. 

Myn  housbond  was  at  Londone  al  that  Lent ; 

I  had  the  bettir  leysir  for  to  pleye, 

And  for  to  see,  and  eek  for  to  be  seye 

Of  lusty  folk ;  what  wist  I  wher  my  grace 

Waaschapen  for  to  be,  or  in  what  place? 

Therfore  I  made  my  visitaciouns 

To  vigiles,  and  to  processiouns, 

To  prechings  eek,  and  to  this  pilgrimages, 

To  pleyes  of  mirac'es,  arid  manages,  6140 

And  wered  upon  my  gay  scarlet  gytes. 

These  wormes,  these  moughtes,  ne  these  mytes, 

Upon  my  perel  fretith  hem  never  a  deel, 

And  wostow  why  ?  for  thay  were  used  wel. 

Now  \vol  I  telle  forth  what  happid  me : — 

I  say,  that  in  the  feldes  walkid  we, 

Til  trewely  we  had  such  daliaunce 

This  clerk  and  I,  that  of  my  purvyaunce 

I  spak  to  him,  and  sayde  how  that  he, 

If  I  were  wydow,  schulde  wedde  me.  6150 

For  certeynly,  I  say  for  no  bobaunce, 

Yit  was  I  never  withouten  purveyaunce 

Of  mariage,  ne  of  no  thinges  eeke  ', 

I  hold  a  mouses  hert  not  worth  a  leek, 

That  hath  but  oon  hole  to  sterte  to, 

And  if  that  faile,  than  is  al  i-do. 

6137.  vit/i'aciouns.  This  passage  appears  to  be  an  imitation  of  one  cited 
\y  TTTwnit  from  the  Itoman  de  la  Rose: 

Souvent  votae  a  la  mere  eglise, 
Et  face  visitations 
Aux  uopces,  aux  processions, 
Aux  jeux,  aux  fcstes,  aux  caroles. 

H40  \ltyt>.  J  miracles.  The  miraole-playe  were  favorite  occasions  for 
people  to  assemble  in  great  number*.  In  a  tale  among  my  Lntin  >7oriM,  p. 
100,  we  are  told  that  some  pilgrims  s*a\v,  in  a'very  large  meadow,  "  mazimam 
iiiultitudinem  Loiiiiimm  congrogatam,  quoa  nunc  eileutes,  uunc  acclaniaiitei, 
iii.nc  eacbinnantcB  audiubant.  Adiiiiranted  igitur  ciuare  in  loco  tali  tanta 
e««et  honiinum  adujiatip,  »«timaba)it  ibi  spccUcula  cc-lebrare  quse  1:08  mira- 
culu  appellare  con«u«vimui."  This  it  a  go  *:  doscnption  of  thu  assemblage 
at  a  miracle-play. 

61M.  a  mouse$  lurt.     TLla  wa*  a  very  cunimuii   proverb.     It  is  found  In 


190  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

[I  bare  him  on  bond  he  had  enchanted  me  ; 

(My  dame  taughte  me  that  subtiltee) 

And  eke  I  sayd,  I  met  of  him  all  night, 

He  Avoid  han  slain  me,  as  I  lay  upright,  6180 

And  all  my  bed  was  ful  of  veray  blood ; 

But  yet  I  hope  that  ye  shuln  do  me  good  ; 

For  blood  betokeneth  gold,  as  me  was  taught ; 

And  al  was  false,  I  dremed  of  him  right  naught, 

But  as  I  folwed  ay  my  dames  lore, 

As  wel  of  that  as  of  other  thinges  more.] 

But  now,  sir,  let  me  se,  what  I  schal  sayn  : 

A  ha  !  by  God,  I  have  my  tale  agayn. 

"  Whan  that  my  fourthe  housbond  was  on  bere, 
I  wept  algate  and  made  a  sory  cheere,  6170 

As  wy ves  uiooten,  for  it  is  usage  ; 
And  with  my  kerchief  covered  my  visage  j 
But,  for  that  I  was  purveyed  of  a  make, 
I  wept  but  smal,  and  that  I  undertake. 
To  chirche  wae  myn  housbond  brought  on  morwe 
With  neighebors  that  for  him  made  sorw-e, 
And  Jankyn  oure  clerk  was  oon  of  tho. 
As  help  me  God,  whan  that  I  saugh  him  go 
After  the  beere,  me  thought  he  had  a  paire 
Of  legges  and  of  feet  so  dene  and  faire,  6180 

That  al  myn  hert  I  gaf  unto  his  hold. 
He  was,  I  trowe,  twenty  wynter  old, 
And  I  was  fourty,  if  I  schal  say  the  sothe, 
But  yit  I  had  alway  a  coltis  tothe. 
Guttothid  I  was,  and  that  by  com  me  wel, 
I  had  the  prynte  of  seynt  Venus  sel. 
[As  helpe  me  God,  I  was  a  lusty  oon, 
And  faire,  and  riche,  and  yonge,  and  wel  begon ; 
And  trewely,  as  myn  housbonds  tolde  me, 
I  had  the  best  queynt  that  might  be.  619ft 

French :  the  following  example  is  taken  from  a  MS.  (  the  thirteenth  *n 
tuiy : 

Dolente  lo  eouris, 

Qui  110  set  qu'un  aeul  pertuis 

It  lilt  occurs  in  German  : 

DaBS  1st  wol  eine  arme  Maus, 

Die  nur  weiss  zu  einern  Loch'  hinaus. 

fLe  game  proverb  is  said  of  a  fox  in  German.  There  was  an  ancient  Latin 
proverb  to  the  same  effect. 

6157.  This  and  the  nine  following  lines  are  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.  and 
others.  The  second  Cambridge  Ma.  has  them.  Tliey  are  here  printed  from 
Tyrwhitt. 

tilbT.  The  Harl.  Ms.  omits  11.  6187-6194  and  6201-€L'08.  The  second  Cam- 
bridge Ms.  is  the  only  one  I  havs  collated  which  contains  them  all.  The 
Lansd.  and  tirst  Cambridge  Mss.  have  only  11.  6187-6190.  I  have  taken  them 
from  Tyrwhitt,  collated  with  the  lisa. 


THE  PROLOGE  OF  TIJE  WYF  OF  BATHE.        19. 


For  certes  I  ain  all  venerian 

In  folyng,  and  my  herte  is  luarcian  : 

Venus  me  gave  my  lust  and  likerousnesse, 

And  Mars  gave  me  my  sturdy  hardinesse.] 

Myn  ascent  was  Taur,  and  Mars  therinne  ; 

Alias,  alas,  that  ever  love  was  synne  ! 

I  folwed  ay  myn  inclinacioun 

By  vertu  of  my  constillacioun  : 

That  made  me  that  I  couthe  nought  withdrawe 

My  chambre  of  Venus  from  a  good  felawe.  3200 

[Yet  have  I  Martes  marke  uppon  my  face, 

And  also  in  another  prive  place. 

For  God  so  wisly  be  my  salvacioun, 

I  loved  never  by  no  discretioun, 

But  ever  folwed  myn  owne  appetit, 

All  were  he  shorte,  longe,  blake,  or  whit ; 

I  toke  ne  kepe,  so  that  he  liked  me, 

How  povre  he  was,  ne  eek  of  what  degre.] 

What  schuld  I  say  ?  but  at  the  monthis  ende 

This  joly  clerk  Jankyn,  that  was  so  heende,  6210 

Hath  weddid  me  with  gret  solempnitee, 

And  to  him  gaf  I  al  the  lond  and  fee 

That  ever  was  me  give  therbifore. 

But  aftir-ward  repented  me  ful  sore. 

He  nolde  suffre  nothing  of  my  list. 

By  God,  he  smot  me  oones  with  his  fist, 

For  I  rent  oones  out  of  his  book  a  lef, 

That  of  that  strok  myn  eere  wax  al  deef. 

Styborn  I  was,  as  is  a  leones, 

And  of  my  tonge  a  verray  jangleres,  6220 

And  walk  I  wold,  as  I  had  don  biforn, 

Fro  hous  to  hous.  although  he  had  it  sworn  ; 

For  which  he  ofte  tymes  wolde  preche, 

And  me  of  olde  Romayn  gestes  teche. 

How  he  Simplicius  Gallus  left  his  wyf, 

And  hir  forsok  for  terme  of  al  his  lyf, 

Nought  but  for  open  heedid  he  hir  say 

Lokyug  out  at  his  dore  upon  a  day. 

Another  Romayn  told  he  me  by  name, 

That,  for  his  wyf  was  at  a  somer  game  6230 

Without  his  wityng,  he  forsok  hir  eeke. 

And  thanne  wold  he  upon  his  book  seeke 

That  ilke  proverbe  of  Ecclesiaste, 

6225.  Simp/iciuf  Gallus.    Thie  story  \?  taken  from  Val.  Max.  vi.  3. 

8EPJ.  .tnot/ier  liiiinayn.  Scmpronius  Suptius,  of  whom  this  story  i*  told 
by  Val.  Max.  loo.  cit.  Valerius  Maximus  \V:IB  a  favorite  among  the  geholfcn 
of  the  middle  agee. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Wher  he  comaundith,  and  forbedith  faste, 
Man  schal  not  suffre  his  wyf  go  roule  aboute. 
Than  wold  he  say  right  thus  withouten  doute  : 

\Vho  that  buyldeth  his  hous  al  of  salwes, 
And  priketh  iiis  blynde  hors  over  the  falwra, 
And  suffrith  bis  wyf  to  go  seken  halwes, 
Is  worthy  to  be  honged  on  the  galwes. 

But  al  for  nought  ;  I  sette.  nought  an  hawe  6240 

Of  his  proverbe,  ne  of  his  olde  sawe  ; 

Ne  I  wold  not  of  him  corretted  be. 

I  hate  him  that  my  vices  tellith  me, 

And  so  doon  mo,  God  it  wot,  than  I. 

This  made  him  with  me  wood  al  outerly  ; 

I  nolde  not  forbere  him  in  no  cas. 

Now  wol  I  say  yow  soth,  by  seint  Thomas, 

Why  that  I  rent  out  of  the  book  a  leef, 

For  which  he  smot  me,  that  I  was  al  deef.  6250 

He  had  a  book,  that  gladly  night  and  day 

For  his  desport  he  wolde  rede  alway  ; 

He  clepyd  it  Valerye  and  Theofrast, 

At  which  book  he  lough  alway  ful  fast. 

And  eek  ther  was  som  tyme  a  clerk  at  Rome, 

A  cardynal,  that  heet  seint  Jerome, 

That  made  a  book  agens  Jovynyan. 

In  which  book  eek  ther  was  Tertulyan, 

Grisippus,  Tortula,  and  eek  Helewys, 

That  was  abbas  not  fer  fro  Paris  ;  6260 

And  eek  the  parablis  of  Salamon, 

Ovydes  Art,  and  bourdes  many  oon  ; 

And  alle  these  were  bounde  in  oo  volume. 

And  every  night  and  day  was  his  custume, 

Whan  he  had  leysir  and  vacacioun 

From  other  worldes  occupacioun, 

To  reden  in  this  book  of  wikked  wyves. 

He  knew  of  hem  mo  legendes  and  lyves, 

Than  ben  of  goode  wyves  in  the  Bible. 

For  trustith  wel,  it  is  an  iiipossible,  6270 

That  any  clerk  schal  speke  good  of  wyves, 

But  if  it  be  of  holy  seintes  lyves, 

6253.  The  tract  of  Walter  Mapee  against  marriage,  published  under  the 
sltie  of  Epiatola  I'alerii  ad  JtuAnum,  is  common  in  manuscripts.  Jerome,  in 
bis  book  contra  Jorinianum,  a  bitter  diatribe  against  matrimony,  quotes  a 
Jong  extract  from  liber  aitreolus  Thfophrasti  de  niiptiis.  "As  to  the  rest  of 
the  content*  of  the  'olerkes'  volume,  Hieronymus  contra  Jovinianum,  and 
Tertullian  tie  Pallia,  are  biufieiently  known  ;  and  so  are  the  Letters  of  Kioisa 
and  Abelard,  the  Parables  of  Solomon,  and  Ovid's  Art  of  Lore.  I  know  of  no 
Trotula  but  one,  whose  book  Curandarum  cegritudinum  muliebrium  ante,  in, 
:-t  post  partum,  is  printed  int.  Medicos  a»?ir/uos,  Yeu.  1547.  Who  is  meant  bj 
Crigiiipus  1  cannot  gpe-e."  -'J'i/rwh\tt- 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE   WYF  OF  BATHE.        193 


Ne  of  noon  other  wj-fes  never  the  mo. 
Who  peyntid  the  leoun,  tel  me,  who  ? 
By  God,  if  wominen  hadde  writen  stories, 
As  clerkes  have  withinne  her  oratories, 
Thiiy  wold  have  write  of  men  more  wickidnes, 
Than  al  the  mark  of  Adam  may  redres. 
These  children  of  Mercury  arid  of  Venus 
Ben  in  her  werkyng  ful  contrarious.  )24 

Mercury  lovith  wisdom  and  science, 
And  Venus  loveth  ryot  and  dispense. 
Arid  for  her  divers  disposicioun, 
Ech  fallith  in  otheres  exaltacioun. 
And  thus,  God  wot,  Mercury  is  desolate 
In  Pisces,  wher  Venus  is  exaltate, 
And  Venus  faylith  wher  Mercury  is  reysed. 
Therfor  no  womman  of  clerkes  is  preised. 
The  clerk  whari  he  is  old,  and  may  nought  dt> 
Of  Venus  werkis,  is  not  worth  a  scho  ;  6290 

Than  sit  he  doun,  and  writ  in  his  dotage, 
That  worn  men  can  nought  kepe  here  manage. 
Hut  now  to  purpos,  why  I  tolde  the, 
That  I  was  beten  for  a  leef,  parde. 
Upon  a  night  Jankyn,  that  was  oure  sire, 
Rad  on  his  book,  as  he  sat  by  the  fyre, 
Of  Eva  first,  that  for  hir  wikkidnes 
Was  al  mankynde  brought  to  wrecchednes, 
[For  which  that  Jhesu  Crist  himself  was  slayn, 
That  bought  us  with  his  herte-blood  agayn.  6300 

Lo  here  expresse  of  woinmen  may  ye  fynde, 
That  woman  was  the  losse  of  al  mankynde.] 

6279.  of  Mercury  and  of  Venus.  An  old  astrological  treatise  of  the  six- 
teenth century  informs  us  that  "  Venus  .  .  .  signifiethe  white  men  or  brownc 
.  .  .  joyfull,  laughter,  liberal!,  ploasers,  dauneers,  entertayners  of  women, 
players,  perfumers,  musitions,  messengers  of  love."  Mercury,  according  to 
the  same  authority,  "signifieth  .  .  .  subtill  men,  ingenious,  unconstant, 
rycrers,  poets,  advocates,  orators,  phylosophers,  soothsayers,  arithmeticians, 
and  bu.Me  fellowes." 

('•'2^4.  e.ra/tacioun.  Tyrwhitt  gives  the  fo. lowing  explanation  of  this  term 
"In  Ihe  old  astrology,  a  planet  was  said  to  be  in  its  exaltation,  when  it  \va* 
In  that  sign  of  the  zodiac  in  which  it  was  supposed  to  exert  its  strongest  in- 
tiuence.  The  opposite  sign  w.is  called  its  dejection,  as  In  that  ii  was  supposed 
to  be  weakest.  To  take  the  instance  in  the  text,  the  exaltation  of  Yeuus  wai 
in  I'isces  (see  also  ver.  10587),  and  her  dejection  of  course  in  Virg->.  But  in 
Virgo  was  the  exaltation  of  Mercury. 

She  is  the  weltho  and  the  rysynge, 
The  lust,  the  joy,  and  the  lykynge, 
Uuto  Mercury. 

dower,  Con/.  Am.  1.  vii.  fol.  147.    So  in  ver.  10008,  Cancer  is  called  Juves  ex~ 
attcwioun." 

fi'.WO.  Tiiis  and  the  three  following  lines  are  omitted  in  most  of  the  Mas.  1 
Law  c- insulted. 


194  TEE  CANTERBURY  TALES 

Tho  rad  he  me  how  Sampson  left  his  heris 

Slepyng,  his  leminan  kut  hem  with  hir  scheria, 

Thurgh  which  tresoun  lost  he  bothe  his  yen. 

Tho  rad  he  me,  if  that  I  schal  not  lyen, 

Of  Ercules,  arid  of  his  Dejanyre, 

That  caused  him  to  sette  himself  on  fuyre. 

No  thing  forgat  he  the  care  and  wo 

That  Socrates  had  with  his  wyves  tuo  ;  8318 

How  Exantipa  cast  pisse  upon  his  heed 

This  seely  man  sat  stille,  as  he  were  deed, 

He  wyped  his  heed,  no  more  durst  he  sayn, 

But,  '  Er  thunder  stynte  ther  cometh  rayn.' 

Of  Phasipha,  that  was  the  queen  of  Creete, 

For  schrewednes  him  thought  the  tale  sweete. 

Fy  I  spek  no  more,  it  is  a  grisly  thing, 

Of  her  horribil  lust  and  her  likyng. 

Of  Clydemystra  for  hir  leccherie 

That  falsly  made  hir  housbond  for  to  dye,  6320 

He  rad  it  with  ful  good  devocioun. 

He  told  me  eek.  for  what  occasioun 

Amphiores  at  Thebes  left  his  lif  ; 

Myn  housbond  had  a  legend  of  his  wyf 

Exiphilem,  that  for  an  ouche  of  gold 

Hath  prively  unto  the  Grekes  told 

Wher  that  hir  housbond  hyd  him  in  a  place, 

For  which  he  had  at  Thebes  sory  grace. 

Of  Lyma  told  he  me,  and  of  Lucye  ; 

Thay  bothe  made  her  housbondes  for  to  dye,  6330 

That  oon  for  love,  that  other  was  for  hate. 

Lyma  hir  housbond  on  an  even  late 

Empoysond  hath,  for  that  sche  was  his  fo  ; 

Lucia  licorous  loved  hir  housbond  so, 

For  that  he  schuld  alway  upon  hir  think, 

Sche  gaf  him  such  a  maner  love-drink, 

That  he  was  deed  er  it  was  by  the  morwe  \ 

And  thus  algates  housbondes  had  sorwe. 

Than  told  he  me,  how  0011  Latumyus 

Compleigned  unto  his  felaw  Arrius,  6340 


6302.  Tho  rad  he.  The  following  examples  are  mostly  taken  from  the 
Epistola  I'alerii  ad  Ihirinum,  and  from  the  Roman  <le  la  Rose. 

6311.  Exantipa.  Xantippe.  In  the  other  proper  names  in  the  following 
lines  I  have  retained  the  corrupt  orthography  of  the  age,  as  given  in  the  MS. 
1'hasiplia  is,  of  course,  Pasiphae  ;  Clydamystra,  Clytemnestra ;  Amphiores, 
Amphiaraus  ;  Kxiphilem,  Kriphyle,  etc. 

tsfL'O.  Lyma.  In  the  Latin  story  (in  the  Ejtist.  J'alcr  ad  7?i</m.)  the  name 
Is  lAnia,  which  appears  lirst  to  have  heen  mistaken  for  Lima,  and  then  writ- 
len  I.i/ma.  So  the  scribes  in  1.  6708,  have  read  Damit  for  JJaunl,  and  after- 
warda  written  it  Damyt,  which  is  found  iii  one  of  the  Cambridge  MSB. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  WYF  OF  BATHE.        196 

That  in  his  gardyn  growed  such  a  tre, 

On  which  he  sayde  how  that  his  wyves  thre 

Honged  hemselfe  for  herte  despitous. 

'O  leve  brother,'  quod  this  Arrious, 

'  Gif  me  a  plont  of  thilke  blessid  tre, 

And  in  my  gardyn  schal  it  plantid  be.' 

Of  latter  date  of  wyves  hath  he  red 

That  some  han  slayn  her  housbondes  in  her  bed, 

And  let  her  lecchour  dighten  al  the  night, 

Whil  that  the  corps  lay  in  the  flor  upright ;  6350 

And  some  han  dryven  nayles  in  her  brayn, 

Whiles  thay  sleepe,  and  thus  thay  han  hem  slayn  ; 

Soni  have  hem  give  poysoun  in  her  drink ; 

He  spttk  more  harm  than  herte  may  bythynk. 

And  therwithal  he  knew  mo  proverbes 

Than  in  this  world  ther  growen  gres  or  herbes. 

Better  is,  quod  he,  thyn  habitacioun 

Be  with  a  leoun,  or  a  foul  dragoun, 

Than  with  a  womman  usyng  for  to  chyde. 

Better  is,  quod  he,  nine  in  the  roof  abyde,  6360 

Than  with  an  angry  womman  doun  in  a  lious  ; 

Thay  ben  so  wicked  and  so  contrarious, 

Thay  haten  that  her  housbondes  loven  ay. 

He  sayd,  a  womman  cast  hir  schame  away, 

Whan  sche  cast  of  hir  smok  j  and  forthermo, 

A  fair  womman,  but  sche  be  chast  also, 

Is  lik  a  gold  ryng  in  a  sowes  nose. 

Who  wolde  wene,  or  who  wolde  suppose 

The  wo  that  in  myn  herte  was  and  pyne  ? 

And  whan  I  saugh  lie  nolde  never  fyne  6870 

To  reden  on  this  cursed  book  al  night, 

Al  sodeinly  thre  leves  have  1  plight 

Out  of  this  booke  that  he  had,  and  eeke 

I  with  my  fist  so  took  him  on  the  cheeke, 

That  in  oure  fuyr  he  fel  bak-ward  adoun. 

And  he  upstert,  as  doth  a  wood  leoun, 

And  with  his  fist  he  smot  me  on  the  hed, 

rha,t  in  the  floor  I  lay  as  I  were  deed. 

And  whan  he  saugh  so  stille  that  I  lay, 

He  was  agast,  and  wold  have  fled  away.  6380 

Til  atte  last  out  of  my  swown  1  bray  de. 

'  O,  hastow  slayn  me,  false  thef  ?  '  I  sayde, 

'  And  for  my  lond  thus  hastow  mourdrid  me  ? 

Ei  I  be  deed,  yit  wol  I  kisse  the.' 

6355.  mo  proverbes.  SeeProv.  xxi.9, 19,  and  xi.  22.  Tyrwkitt  observes  tbmt 
the  observation  in  1.  f>364  is  found  in  Herodotus,  lib.  i.  p.  5.  It  is,  however, 
found  in  various  medieval  writers,  from  whom  Chaucer  might  have  taken  it 


196  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  ner  he  cam,  and  knelith  faire  adoun 

And  sayde,  '  Deere  suster  Alisoun, 

As  help  me  God,  I  schal  the  never  smyte  ; 

That  I  have  doon  it  is  thiself  to  wite  ; 

Forgive  it  me,  and  that  I  the  biseke.' 

And  yet  eftsones  I  hyt  him  on  the  cheke,  6390 

And  sayde,  '  Thef,  thus  mekil  I  me  wreke. 

Now  wol  I  dye,  I  may  no  lenger  speke.' 

But  atte  last,  with  mochil  care  and  wo, 

We  fyl  accordid  by  oureselven  tuo  ; 

He  gaf  me  al  the  bridil  in  myn  hand 

To  have  the  governaunce  of  hous  and  land, 

And  of  his  tonge,  and  of  his  hond  also, 

And  made  him  brenne  his  book  anoon  right  tho. 

And  whan  I  hadde  geten  unto  me 

By  maistry  al  the  sovereynete,  6400 

And  that  he  sayde,  '  Myn  owne  trewe  wif. 

Do  as  the  list  the  term  of  al  thy  lif, 

Kepe  thyn  honour,  and  kep  eek  myn  estat ; 

And  after  that  day  we  never  had  debat. 

God  help  me  so,  I  was  to  him  as  kyride 

As  eny  wyf  fro  Denmark  unto  Inde, 

And  al  so  trewe  was  he  unto  me. 

I  pray  to  God  that  sitte  in  mageste 

So  blesse  his  soule,  for  his  mercy  deere. 

Now  wol  I  say  my  tale,  if  ye  wol  heere."  6410 

The  Frere  lough  whan  he  had  herd  al  this  : 
"  Now,  dame,"  quod  he,  "  so  have  I  joye  and  blis, 
This  is  a  long  preambel  of  a  tale." 
And  whan  the  Sompnour  herd  the  Frere  gale, 
"  Lo  !  "  quod  this  Sompnour,  "  for  Goddes  armes  tuo, 
A  frer  wol  entremet  him  everino. 
Lo,  goode  men,  a  flie  and  eek  a  frere 
Woln  falle  in  every  dissche  and  matiere. 
What  spekst  thou  of  perambulacioun  ? 
What?  arubil,  or  trot;  or  pees,  or  go  sit  doun  ;      6421 
Thou  lettest  oure  disport  in  this  matere." 
"  Ye,  woltow  so,  sir  sompriour  1 "  quod  the  Frere. 
"  NOAV,  by  my  fay,  I  schal,  er  that  I  go, 
Telle  of  a  sompriour  such  a  tale  or  tuo, 
That  a  lie  the  folk  schuln  laughen  in  this  place." 
'  Now,  ellis,  frere,  I  byschrew  thy  face." 
Quod  this  Sompnour,   "  And  I  byschrewe  me, 
But  if  I  telle  tales  tuo  or  thre 
Of  freres,  er  I  come  to  Sydingborne, 

6429.   Sydinglorne.     Sittingbourue,  about  half  way  between  Rocheitei 
and  Canterbury. 


THE  WYF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  197 

That  I  schal  make  thin  herte  for  to  morne  ;  6430 

For  wel  I  wot  tin  paciens  is  goon." 

Oure  hoste  eride,  "  Pees,  and  that  anoon  ;  " 

And  sayde,  "  Let  the  womiuan  telle  hir  tale. 

Ye  fare  as  folkes  that  dronken  ben  of  ale. 

Do,  dame,  tel  forth  your  tale,  and  that  is  best." 

"  Al  redy,  sir,"  quod  sche,  "  right  as  you  lest, 

If  i  have  licence  of  this  worthy  frere." 

"  Yis,  dame,"  quod  he,  "  tel  forth,  arid  I  schal  beer* 

THK   WYP  OF   BATHES   TALE. 

IN  olde  dayes  of  the  kyng  Arthour,  6440 

Of  which  that  Britouns  speken  gret  honour, 
Al  was  this  lond  fulfilled  of  fayrie  ; 
The  elf-queen,  with  hir  joly  compaignye, 
Daunced  ful  oft  in  many  a  grene  ruede. 
This  was  the  old  oppynyoun,  as  I  rede  ', 
I  speke  of  many  hundrid  yer  ago  ; 
But  now  can  no  man  see  noon  elves  ino. 
For  now  the  grete  charite  and  prayeres 
Of  lymytours  and  other  holy  freres, 
That  sechen  every  lond  and  every  streem, 
As  thik  as  motis  in  the  sonne-beem,  6450 

Biessynge  halles,  chambres,  kichenes,  and  boures, 
Citees  and  burghes,  castels  hihe  and  toures, 
Thropes  and  bernes,  shepnes  and  dayeries, 
That  makith  that  ther  ben  no  fayeries. 
For  ther  as  wont  was  to  walken  an  elf, 
Ther  walkith  noon  but  the  lymytour  himself, 
In  undermeles  and  in  morwenynges, 
And  saith  his  matyns  and  his  holy  thinges 
As  lie  goth  in  his  lymytacioun. 

Wommen  may  now  go  saully  up  and  doun,  0100 

In  every  bussch,  and  under  every  tre, 
Ther  is  11011  other  incubus  but  he,  % 

And  he  ne  wol  doon  hem  no  dishonour. 
And  so  bifel  it,  that  this  king  Arthour 
Had  in  his  hous  a  lusty  bacheler, 


The  Wyf  of  Bathes  Tale.  The  source  from  which  Chaucor  took  this  story 
is  somewhat  uncertain,  but  it  was  very  probably  the  subject  of  a  French  lay. 
Percy  printed  a  ballad  .  ntitled  The  Marriaije  of  Sir  Gaicaine,  which  is  found- 
ed on  the  same  plot.  The  story  of  Florent,  in  Gower,  Con/.  Amant.  book  i., 
bears  a  close  resemblance  to  it. 

64G;;.  The  Ms.  Harl.  reads  this  line,  evidently  Incorrectly,  And  ne  toot  but 
doon,  hem  dishonour.  In  the  previous  line,  the  same  manuscript  read*  err* 
ueoufily  incumbent,  instead  of  im-nlms. 


198  THE  CANTERBURY  T 


That  on  a  day  coin  rydyng  fro  ryver  ; 

And  happed,  al  alone  as  sche  was  born, 

He  saugh  a  mayde  \valkyng  him  byforn, 

Of  which  niayden  anoon,  maugre  hir  heed, 

By  verray  fors  byraft  hir  maydenhed.  6470 

For  which  oppressioun  was  such  clamour, 

And  such  pursuyte  unto  kyng  Arthour, 

That  dampned  was  the  knight  and  schuld  ue  ded 

By  cours  of  lawe,  and  schuld  have  lost  his  heed, 

'Para venture  such  was  the  statut  tho,) 

But  that  the  queen  and  other  ladys  mo 

So  longe  preyeden  thay  the  kyng  of  grace, 

Til  he  his  lif  hath  graunted  in  the  place, 

And  gaf  him  to  the  queen,  al  at  hir  wille 

To  chese  wethir  sche  wold  him  save  or  spille.  6480 

The  queen  thanked  the  kyng  with  al  hir  might ; 

And  after  thus  sche  spak  unto  the  knight, 

Whan  that  sche  saugh  hir  tyme  upon  a  day  : 

"  Thow  stondest  yet,"  quod  sche,  "  in  such  array, 

That  of  thy  lyf  hastow  no  sewerte  ; 

I  graunte  thy  lif,  if  thou  canst  telle  me, 

What  thing  is  it  that  wommen  most  desiron  ; 

Be  war,  and  keep  thy  nek-bon  fro  the  ireri. 

And  if  thou  canst  not  tellen  it  anoon, 

Yet  wol  I  give  the  leve  for  to  goon  649C 

A  twelfmorith  and  a  day,  it  for  to  lere 

An  answar  suffisaunt  in  this  matiere. 

And  seurte  wol  I  have,  er  that  thou  pace, 

Thy  body  for  to  yelden  in  this  place." 

Wo  was  this  knight,  and  sorwfully  he  siked  ; 

But  what?  he  may  not  doon  al  as  him  liked. 

And  atte  last  he  ches  him  for  to  wende, 

And  come  agein  right  at  the  yeres  ende 

With  swich  answer  as  God  him  wolde  purveye  ; 

And  takith  his  leve,  and  wendith  forth  his  weye     6500 

lie  sekith  every  hous  and  every  place, 

Wher  so  hi  hopith  for  to  fynde  grace, 

To  lerne  what  thing  wommen  loven  most ; 

But  he  ne  couthe  arryven  in  no  cost, 

Wher  as  he  mighte  fynde  in  this  matiere 

Two  creatures  accordyng  in  fere. 


6466.  fro  ryver.  From  hawking.  Con/.  1.  13665.  Tyrwhitt  has  given  §ev 
eral  examples  of  the  same  phrase  as  used  in  French  by  Froissart — "  Le  Comte 
de  Flant'res  estoit  tousjours  en  riviere  "  (v.  i.  c.  140)  ....  King  Edward 
"mlloit  chacun  jour  ou  en  cLace  ou  en  riviere."  (ib.  c.  210.) 

6506.  Two  creature.'.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads,  To  these  thinges  accordyng  in 
fere- 


THE  WYF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  199 


Some  sayden,  woniineii  loveri  best  richesse, 

Some  sayde  honour,  and  some  sayde  jolyriesse, 

Some  riche  array,  some  sayden  lust  on  bedde, 

And  ofte  tyme  to  be  wydow  and  wedde.  0510 

Some  sayden  owre  herte  is  most  i-eased 

Whan  we  ben  y-flaterid  and  y-preised  ; 

He  goth  ful  neigh  the  soth,  I  wil  not  lye  ; 

A  man  sehal  wynne  us  best  with  flaterye ; 

And  with  attendaunce,  and  with  busynesse 

Ben  we  y-limed  both  more  and  lesse. 

And  some  sayen,  that  we  loven  best 

For  to  be  fre,  and  to  doon  as  us  lest, 

And  that  no  man  repreve  us  of  oure  vice, 

But  saj*-  that  we  ben  wys,  and  no  thing  nyce.  f»520 

For  trewely  ther  is  noon  of  us  alle, 

If  eny  wight  wold  claw  us  on  the  galle, 

That  we  nyl  like,  for  he  saith  us  soth  ; 

Assay,  and  he  schal  fynd  it,  that  so  doth. 

For  be  we  never  so  vicious  withinne, 

We  schuln  be  holde  wys  and  clene  of  synne. 

And  some  sayen,  that  gret  delit  han  we 

For  to  be  holden  stabil  and  secre, 

And  in  oon  purpos  stedfastly  to  duelle, 

And  nought  bywreye  thing  that  men  us  telle.          6530 

But  that  tale  is  not  worth  a  rakes  stele. 

Pardy,  we  wymmen  can  right  no  thing  hele, 

Witnes  on  Mida  ;  wil  ye  here  the  tale  ? 

Ovyd,  among  his  other  thinges  smale, 

Sayde,  Mida  had  under  his  lange  heris 

Growyng  upon  his  heed  tuo  asses  eeris  ; 

The  whiche  vice  he  hid,  as  he  best  might, 

Ful  subtilly  fro  every  mannes  sight, 

That,  save  his  wyf,  ther  wist  of  that  noino  ; 

He  loved  hir  most,  and  trusted  hir  also ;  6540 

He  prayed  hir,  that  to  no  creature 

Sche  schulde  tellen  of  his  disfigure. 

Sche  swor  him,  nay,  for  al  this  world  to  wynno, 

Sche  nolde  do  that  vilonye  or  synne 

To  make  hir  housband  have  so  foul  a  name  ; 

Sche  wold  not  tel  it  for  hir  oughne  scharue. 

But  natheles  hir  thoughte  that  sche  dyde, 

That  sche  so  long  a  counseil  scholde  hyde  ; 

Hir  thought  it  swal  so  sore  about  hir  hert, 

6512.  y-preisfil.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  y-pleased;  but  the  reading  I  hare 
adopted  seems  to  give  tho  bus:  senso. 

6523.  like.  Tyrwhitt  reads  kike;  but  the  MSS.  I  have  consulted  agree  in 
like,  or  lake,  the  former  biing  the  reading  of  Ms.  Hail. 


200  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  needely  soni  word  hir  most  astert ;  6550 

A.nd  sins  sche  dorst  not  tel  it  unto  man, 

Doun  to  a  uuarreys  faste  by  sehe  ran, 

Til  sche  cam  ther,  her  herte  was  ori  fuyre  ; 

And  as  a  bytoure  bumblith  in  the  myre, 

Sche  layd  hir  mouth  unto  the  water  doun. 

'  Bywrey  me  not,  thou  watir,  with  thi  soun," 

Quod  sche,  '  to  the  I  telle  it,  and  nomo, 

Myn  housbond  hath  long  asse  eeris  tuo. 

Now  is  myn  hert  al  hool,  now  is  it  oute, 

I  might  110  lengei  kepe  it  out  of  doute.'  6/560 

Her  may  ye  se,  theigh  we  a  tyme  abyde, 

Yet  out  it  moot,  we  can  no  counseil  hyde. 

The  remenaunt  of  the  tale,  if  ye  wil  here, 

Redith  Ovid,  and  ther  ye  mow  it  leere. 

This  knight,  of  which  my  tale  is  specially, 
Whan  that  he  saugh  he  might  nought  come  therby, 
This  is  to  say,  that  woruinen  loven  most, 
Withinne  his  brest  ful  sorwful  was  the  gost. 
But  horn  he  goth,  he  might  not  lenger  sojourne, 
The  day  was  come,  that  horn-ward  most  he  torne. 
And  in  his  way,  it  hapnyd  him  to  ride  6571 

In  al  his  care,  under  a  forest  side, 
Wher  as  he  saugh  upon  a  daunce  go 
Of  ladys  four  and  twenty,  and  yit  mo. 
Toward  this  ilke  daunce  he  d rough  ful  yerne, 
In  hope  that  he  som  wisdom  schuld  i-lerne  ; 
But  certeyrily,  er  he  com  fully  there, 
Vanysshid  was  this  daunce,  he  nyste  where  ; 
No  creature  saugh  he  that  bar  lif, 

Sauf  on  the  greeue  he  saugh  sittyng  a  wyf,  S58C 

A  fouler  wight  ther  may  no  man  devyse. 
A  gens  the  knight  this  olde  wyf  gan  ryse, 
And  sayd,   "  Sir  knight,  heer  forth  lith  no  way  ; 
Tel  me  what  ye  seekyn,  by  your  fay. 
Parad  vent  tire  it  may  the  better  be  : 
Thise  olde  folk  con  mochil  thing,"  quod  sche. 
"My  lieve  modir,"  quod  this  knight,  "certayn 
I  am  but  ded  but  if  that  I  can  sayn 
What  thing  is  it  that  wommen  most  desire  ;  65  SU 

Couthe  ye  me  wisse,  I  wold  wel  quyt  your  huyre." 
"  Plight  me  thy  trouth  her  in  myn  hond,"  quod  sche, 
"  The  iiexte  thing  that  I  require  the, 
Thou  schalt  it  doo,  if  it  be  in  thy  might, 
And  I  wol  telle  it  the,  er  it  be  night." 
"  Have  her  my  troutho,"  quod  the  knight,      I  graunte." 
'  flianne,"  quod  sche,  "  I  dar  me  wel  avaunte, 


THE   WYF  OF  DATUES  TALE.  201 


Thy  lif  is  sauf,  for  I  wol  stonde  therby, 

Upon  my  lif  the  queen  wol  say  as  I ; 

Let  se,  which  is  the  proudest  of  hem  alle, 

That  werith  on  a  coverchief  or  a  calle,  6600 

That  dar  say  nay  of  thing  I  schal  the  teche. 

Let  us  go  forth  withouten  more  speche." 

Tho  rowned  sche  a  pistil  in  his  eere, 

And  bad  him  to  be  glad,  and  have  no  fere. 

Whan  thay  ben  comen  to  the  court,  this  knight 

Suyd,  he  had  holde  his  day,  that  he  bight, 

Al  redy  was  his  answer,  as  he  sayde. 

Ful  many  a  noble  wyf,  and  many  a  mayde, 

And  many  a  wydow,  for  that  thay  ben  wyse, 

The  queen  hirself  sittyng  as  a  justise,  6610 

Asseinblid  ben,  his  answer  for  to  hiere  ; 

And  after- ward  this  knight  was  bode  appiere, 

To  every  wight  comaundid  was  silence, 

And  that  the  knight  schuld  telle  in  audience 

What  thing  that  worldly  woiumen  loven  best. 

This  knight  no  stood  not  stille,  as  doth  a  best, 
But  to  the  questioun  anoon  ariswerde, 
With  manly  voys,  that  al  the  court  it  herde  : 
"  My  liege  lady,  generally,"  quod  he, 
"  Wommen  desiren  to  have  soveraynte  6630 

As  wel  over  hir  housbond  as  over  hir  love, 
And  for  to  be  in  maystry  him  above. 
This  is  your  most  desir,  though  ye  me  kille  ; 
Doth  as  yow  list,  I  am  heer  at  your  wille." 
In  al  the  court  ne  was  ther  wyf,  ne  mayde, 
Ne  wydow,  that  contraried  that  he  sayde  ; 
But  sayden,  he  was  worthy  have  his  lif. 
And  with  that  word  upstart  that  olde  wif, 
Which  that  the  knight  saugh  sittyng  on  .the  grene. 
'•  Mercy,"  quod  sche,  "  my  soveraign  lady  queene, 
Er  that  your  court  departe,  doth  me  right.  6631 

I  taughte  this  answer  unto  the  knight ; 
For  which  he  plighte  me  his  trouthe  there, 
The  firste  thing  that  1  wold  him  requere, 
Le  wold  it  do,  if  it  lay  in  his  might. 
Before  this  court  then  pray  I  the,  sir  knight,' 
Quod  sche,  "  that  thou  me  take  unto  thy  wif, 
For  wel  thou  wost,  that  I  have  kept  thy  lif  ; 
If  I  say  fals,  sey  nay,  upon  thy  fey." 
This  knight  answerd,  "  Alias  and  waylawey  !  664 i 

I  wot  right  wel  that  such  was  my  byhest. 
For  Goddes  love,  as  chese  a  new  request  ', 
Tuk  al  my  good,  and  let  my  body  go." 


202  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Nay,"  quod  sche  than,  "  I  schrew  us  bothe  tuo. 

For  though  that  1  be  foule,  old,  and  pore, 

I  nolde  for  al  the  metal  ne  for  the  ore 

That  under  erthe  is  grave,  or  lith  above, 

But  I  thy  wife  were  and  eek  thy  love." 

"  My  love  ?  "  quod  he,  "  nay,  nay,  my  dampnacioun. 

Alias  !  that  eny  of  my  nacioun  6650 

Schuld  ever  so  foule  disparagid  be !  " 

But  al  for  nought;  the  ende  is  this,  that  he 

Const-reigned  was,  he  needes  most  hir  wedde, 

And  takith  his  wyf,  and  goth  with  hir  to  bedde 

Now  wolden  soni  men  say  paradventure, 
That  for  my  necgligence  I  do  no  cure 
To  telle  yow  the  joye  and  tk  array 
That  at  that  fest  was  maad  that  ilke  day. 
To  which  thing  schortly  answeren  I  schal, 
And  say  ther  nas  feste  ne  joy  at  al,  6660 

Ther  nas  but  hevynes  and  niochil  sorwe  ; 
For  prively  he  weddyd  hir  in  a  morwe, 
And  alday  hudde  him  as  doth  an  oule, 
So  wo  was  him,  his  wyf  loked  so  foule. 
Gret  was  the  wo  the  knight  had  in  his  thought 
Whan  he  was  Avith  his  wyf  on  bedde  brought, 
He  walwith,  and  he  torneth  to  and  fro. 
His  olde  wyf  lay  smylyng  ever  mo, 
And  sayd,  "  O  deere  housbond,  benedicite, 
Faroth  every  knight  with  his  wyf  as  ye  ?  6670 

Is  this  the  lawe  of  king  Arthures  hous  ? 
Is  every  knight  of  his  thus  daungerous  ? 
I  am  your  oughne  love,  and  eek  your  wyf, 
I  am  sche  that  hath  savyd  your  lyf, 
And  certes  ne  dede  I  yow  never  unright. 
Why  fare  ye  thus  with  me  the  firste  night  ? 
Ye  fare  lik  a  man  that  had  left  his  wit. 
What  is  my  guit  ?  for  Godes  love,  tel  me  it, 
Audit  schal  be  amendid,  if  that  I  may." 
"  Amendid  !  "  quod  this  knight,  "  alias  !  nay,  nay, 
It  \vul  nought  ben  amendid,  never  1110  ;  6681 

Thow  art  so  lothly,  and  so  old  also, 
And  tberto  comen  of  so  lowh  a  kynde, 
That  litil  wonder  is  though  I  wal  we  and  wynde ; 
So  wolde  God,  myn  herte  wolde  brest!  " 
"  Is  this,"  quol  sche,  "  the  cause  of  your  unrest  ?  " 
"  Ye,  certeyuly/    quod  he,  "  no  wonder  is!  " 
"  Now,  sire,"  quod  suhe,  "  I  couthe  amende  all  this, 
If  that  me  list,  or  it  were  dayes  thre, 
So  wel  ve  mighte  bere  vow  to  me.  66&0 


THE  WYF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  203 


But  for  ye  speken  of  such  gentilesse 

As  is  descendit  out  of  old  richesse, 

Thei-for  schuld  ye  ben  holden  gentil  men  ; 

Such  arrogaunce  is  not  worth  an  hen. 

Lok  who  that  is  most  vertuous  alway, 

Prive  and  pert,  and  most  entendith  ay 

To  do  the  gentil  dedes  that  he  can, 

Tak  him  for  the  grettest  gentil  man. 

Crist,  wol  we  clayme  of  him  oure  geritilesse, 

Nought  of  oure  eldres  for  her  olde  richesse.  8704 

For  though  thay  give  us  al  her  heritage, 

For  which  we  clayme  to  be  of  high  parage, 

Yit  may  thay  not  biquethe,  for  no  thing 

To  noon  of  us,  so  vertuous  lyvyng, 

That  made  hem  gentil  men  y-callid  be, 

And  bad  us  folwe  him  in  such  degre. 

Wei  can  the  wyse  poet  of  Florence, 

That  hatte  Daunt,  speke  of  this  sentence  ; 

Lo,  in  such  maner  of  rym  is  Dauntes  tale  : 

Ful  seeld  uprisith  by  his  braunchis  smale  6710 

Prowes  of  man,  for  God  of  his  prowesse 

Wol  that  we  claime  of  him  our  gentilesse  ; 

For  of  our  auiicestres  we  no  thing  clayme 

But  temporal  thing,  that  men  may  hurt  and  mayme. 

Ek  every  wight  wot  this  as  wel  as  I, 

If  gentiles  were  plaunted  naturelly 

Unto  a  certayn  lignage  doun  the  line, 

Prive  ne  apert,  thay  wolde  never  fine 

To  don  of  geritilesce  the  fair  office, 

Thay  might  nought  doon  no  vileny  or  vice.  6720 

Tak  fuyr  and  ber  it  in  the  derkest  hous 

Bitwixe  this  and  the  mount  Caukasous, 

And  let  men  shit  the  dores,  and  go  thenne, 

Yit  wol  the  fuyr  as  fair  and  lighte  brenne 

As  twenty  thousand  men  might  it  biholde  ; 

His  office  naturel  ay  wol  it  holde, 

Up  peril  on  my  lif,  til  that  it  dye. 

Her  may  ye  se  wel,  how  that  genterye 

Is  nought  aunexid  to  possessioun, 

Sithins  folk  ne  doon  her  operacioun  8730 

6700.  her  olde.    The  Harl.  Ms.  read?,  for  our  gret  richesse. 
6709.  Dauntts  tale.    The  words  of  Danto  (I'urg.  vii.  121)  are.— 

Rade  volte  lisurge  per  li  rami 

L'  hum  ana  probitate  :  et  questo  vuole 

Quei  che  la  >!a,  perche  da  se  si  chiaroi. 

6713.  auncestres.     Other  MHS.,  with  Tyrwhitt,  read  our  eldert  may  «pfc 
which  ii  perhaps  the  better  reading. 


204  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ahvay,  as  doth  the  fuyr,  lo,  in  his  kynde. 

For  God  it  wot,  men  may  ful  often  fynde 

A  lordes  sone  do  schaine  and  vilonye. 

And  he  that  wol  have  pris  of  his  gentrie, 

For  he  was  boren  of  a  gentil  nous, 

And  had  his  eldres  noble  and  vertuous, 

And  nyl  himselve  doo  no  gentil  dedes, 

Ne  folw  his  gentil  aunceter,  that  deed  is, 

He  is  nought  gentil,  be  he  duk  or  erl ; 

For  vileyn  synful  deedes  maketh  a  cherl.  6740 

For  gentilnesse  nys  but  renome 

Of  thin  auncestres,  for  her  heigh  bourite, 

Which  is  a  straunge  thing  to  thy  persone  ; 

Thy  gentilesce  cometh  fro  God  alloone. 

Than  comth  cure  verray  gentilesse  of  grace, 

It  was  no  thing  biquethe  us  with  oure  place. 

Thinketh  how  nobil,  as  saith  Valerius, 

Was  thilke  Tullius  Hostilius, 

That  out  of  povert  ros  to  high  noblesse. 

Redith  Senek,  and  redith  eek  Boece,  6750 

Ther  schuln  ye  se  expresse,  that  no  dred  is, 

That  he  is  gentil  that  doth  gentil  dedis. 

And  therfor,  lieve  housbond,  I  conclude, 

Al  were  it  that  myn  auncetres  wer  rude, 

Yit  may  the  highe  God,  and  so  hope  I, 

Graunte  me  grace  to  lyve  vertuously ; 

Than  am  I  gentil,  whan  that  I  bygynne 

To  lyve  vertuously,  and  weyven  synne. 

And  ther  as  ye  of  povert  me  repreve, 

The  heighe  God,  on  whom  that  we  bilieve,  6760 

In  wilful  povert  dies  to  lede  his  lif ; 

And  certes,  every  man,  mayden,  or  wif, 

May  understonrle  that  Jhesus,  heven  king, 

Ne  wold  not  chese  a  vicious  lyvyng. 

Glad  povert  is  an  honest  thing  certayn  ; 

This  wol  Senek  and  other  clerkes  sayn. 

Who  that  holt  him  payd  of  his  povert, 

I  hold  him  riche,  al  had  he  nought  a  schert. 

He  that  coveitith  is  a  pore  wight, 

For  he  wold  have  that  is  not  in  his  might.  6770 

But  he  that  nought  hath,  ne  coveyteth  nought  to  have, 

Is  riche,  although  ye  hold  him  but  a  knave, 

Verray  povert  is  synne  proprely. 

6741.  For  grntilnessc.  Tyrwhitt  refers  to  Bootbius  de  Coiisol.  iii.  Pr.  6,  foi 
much  of  the  reasoning  here  adopted  by  Chaucer. 

U761.  Itile.  The  Ms.  Harl.  has  lent-,  which  appears  to  have  been  a  in«ro 
error  of  the  scribe- 


THE  WYF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  205 


"  Juvenal  saith  of  povert  merily, 
The  pore  man  whan  he  goth  by  the  way 
Bifore  the  theves  he  may  synge  arid  play. 
Povert  is  hateful  good  ;  and,  as  I  gesse, 
A  ful  gret  brynger  out  of  busynesse ; 
A  gret  amender  eek  of  sapiens 

To  him  that  takith  it  in  paciens.  8780 

Poviirt  is  this,  although  it  seme  elenge, 
Possessioun  that  no  wight  wil  chalenge. 
Povert  ful  often,  whan  a  man  is  lowe, 
Makith  him  his  God  and  eek  himself  to  knowe. 
Povert  a  spectacle  is,  as  thirikith  me, 
Thurgh  which  he  may  his  verray  frendes  se; 
And  therfor,  sir,  syth  that  I  yow  nought  greve, 
Of  my  povert  no  more  me  repreve. 

"  Now,  sir,  of  elde  ye  repreve  me  ; 

And  certos,  sir,  though  noon  auctorite  6790 

Were  in  no  book,  ye  gentils  of  honour 
Sayn  that  men  schuld  an  old  wight  doon  favour, 
And  clepe  him  fader,  for  your  gentilesse  ; 
And  auctours  I  schal  fynden,  as  I  gesse. 

"Now  ther  that  ye  sayn  I  am  foul  and  old, 
Than  drede  yow  nought  to  ben  a  cokewold. 
For  filthe  and  elde,  al  so  mot  I  the, 
Ben  grete  wardeyus  upon  chastite. 
But  natheles,  sith  I  knowe  your  delyt, 
I  schal  fulfille  youre  worldly  appetyt.  0800 

Chese  now,"  quod  sche,  "  oon  of  these  thinges  tweye, 
To  have  me  foul  and  old  til  that  I  deye, 
And  be  to  yow  a  trewe  humble  wyf, 
And  never  yow  displease  in  al  my  lyf ; 
Or  elles  ye  wol  have  me  yong  and  fair, 
And  take  your  aventure  of  the  repair 
That  schal  be  to  your  hous  bycause  of  me, 
Or  in  som  other  place  it  may  wel  be. 
Now  chese  yourselven  whethir  that  yow  liketh." 

T4.  Juvenal  taifh.    Sat.  x.  1.  22,— 

Cantabit  vacuus  coram  latrone  viator. 

•7T7.  Povert  is  \ateful  good.  This  is  taken  from  a  pretended  dialogue  b«- 
wetm  the  emperoi  Adrian  and  the  philosopher  Sec'tndus,  which  is  giveu  in 
ITinoent  of  Beativais,  Spec.  Hist.  lib.  x.  c.  71,  and  is  not  unfrequemly  founj 
In  a  separate  form  in  old  manuscripts.  To  the  question,  "  Quid  est,  paupe' 
t*s?"  the  philosopher  replies,  "  Oilibile  Ixmuni;  sanitatis  mater;  remotio 
curarum  ;  sapient  'UK  repertrit ;  negotium  sine  Jamno  ;  posscssio  absrjue  calum- 
*ia;  fine  sollicitudine  felicitas." 

6797.  al  so,  or,  as  it  is  commonly  written,  alsn,  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  fdlsica 
or  enl  swa.  Tyrwhitt,  apparently  not  aware  of  this,  h;is  added  another  10, 
•not  found  in  any  of  the  M83.,  and  reads  the  line, 

For  liilhe,  nnd  elde  also,  so  mot  1  the. 


206  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


This  knight  avysith  him,  and  sore  sikith,  8810 

B  it  atte  last  he  sayd  in  this  manere  : 

"  My  lady  and  my  love,  and  wif  so  deere, 

I  putte  me  in  your  wyse  governaunce, 

Chesith  yourself  which  may  be  most  pleasaunce 

And  most  honour  to  yow  and  me  also, 

I  do  no  fors  the  whether  of  the  tuo  ; 

For  as  yow  likith,  it  sufflsith  me." 

'  Than  have  I  gete  of  yow  the  maystry,"  quod  sche, 

"  Sith  I  may  govern  and  chese  as  me  list  ?  " 

"  Ye  certis,  wyf,"  quod  he,  "I  hold  it  best."  6820 

"  Kys  me,"  quod  sche,  "  we  ben  no  lenger  wrothe, 

For,  by  my  trouthe,  I  wol  be  to  yow  bothe, 

This  is  to  say,  ye,  bothe  fair  and  good. 

I  pray  to  God  that  I  mot  sterve  wood, 

But  I  be  to  yow  al  so  good  and  trewe 

As  ever  was  wyf,  siththen  the  world  was  newe  j 

And  but  I  be  to  morow  as  fair  to  seen 

As  eny  lady,  ernperesse,  or  queen, 

That  is  bitwixe  thest  and  eek  the  west, 

Doth  by  my  lyf  right  even  as  yow  lest.  6830 

Cast  up  the  cortyns,  and  look  what  this  is." 

And  whan  the  knyght  saugh  verrayly  al  this, 
That  sche  so  fair  was,  and  so  yong  therto, 
For  joye  he  hent  hir  in  his  armes  tuo  ; 
His  herte  bathid  in  a  bath  of  blisse, 
A  thousand  tyme  on  rowe  he  gan  hir  kisse. 
And  sche  obeyed  him  in  every  thing 
That  ruighte  doon  him  pleisauns  or  likyng. 
And  thus  thay  lyve  unto  her  lyves  ende 
In  parfyt  joye ;  and  Jhesu  Crist  us  sende  6840 

Housbondes  meke,  yonge,  and  freissche  on  bedde, 
And  grace  to  overbyde  hem  that  we  wedde. 
And  eek  I  pray  to  Jhesus  schort  her  lyves, 
That  wil  nought  be  governed  after  her  wyvs 
And  old  and  angry  nygardes  of  despense, 
God  send  hem  sone  verray  pestilence ! 

THE  PROLOGE  OF  THE  PRKRE. 

THIS  worthy  lymytour,  this  noble  Frere, 
He  made  alway  a  maner  lourynge  cheere 

M31.    The  second  Cambridge  MS.  reads,  instead  of  this  lin«, 

And  so  they  slept  tille  the  morwe  gray; 
And  than  she  saide,  when  it  was  day, 
"Caste  up  the  curteyn,  loke  howe  it  IB." 


THE  FRERES  TALE.  207 


Upon  the  Soiiipnour,  but  for  honeste 

No  vileyns  worde  yit  to  him  spak  he.  6850 

But  atte  last  he  sayd  unto  the  wyf, 

"Dame,"  quod  he,  "  God  giveyow  good  lyf  I 

Ye  han  her  touchid,  al  so  mot  I  the, 

In  scole  inatier  gret  difficulte. 

Ye  han  sayd  mochel  tiling  right  wel,  I  say ; 

But,  dame,  right  as  we  ryden  by  the  way, 

Us  needeth  nought  but  for  to  speke  of  game, 

And  lete  auctorites,  in  Goddes  name, 

To  preching  and  to  scoles  of  clergie. 

But  if  it  like  to  this  companye,  6860 

I  wij.yow  of  a  sompnour  telle  a  game  ; 

Parde,  ye  may  wel  knowe  by  the  name, 

That  of  a  sompnour  may  no  good  be  sayd  ; 

I  pray  that  noon  of  yow  be  evel  apayd  ; 

A  sompnour  is  a  renner  up  arid  doun 

With  maundementz  for  forriicacioun, 

A.nd  is  y-bete  at  every  touries  eeride." 

Our  oste  spak,  "  A  !  sir,  ye  schold  been  heende 
And  eurteys,  as  a  man  of  your  estaat, 
In  company  we  wol  have  no  debaat ;  6870 

Telleth  your  tale,  and  let  the  Sompnour  be." 
"  Nay,"  quoth  the  Sompnour,  "  let  him  say  to  me 
What  so  him  list ;  whan  it  cometh  to  my  lot, 
By  God  !  I  schal  him  quyten  every  grot. 
I  schal  him  telle  which  a  gret  honour 
Is  to  ben  a  fals  flateryng  lymytour, 
And  his  offis  1  schal  him  telle  i-wis." 
Oure  host  answerd,  "  Pees,  no  more  of  this." 
And  after  this  he  sayd  unto  the  Frere,  §879 

"  Telleth  forth  vour  tale,  my  leve  maister  deere." 

THE    FREHKS    TALE. 

WHILOM  there  was  dwellyng  in  my  couritre 
An  erchedeken,  a  man  of  gret  degre, 

6858.  Auctorites.  "  Auctoritas  was  the  usual  word  for  what  wt  call  a  ttrt 
of  Scripture.  Ms.  Harl.  106,  10.  Kxpositio  auctoritati.i,  Majus  eaudium  sup« 
uno  peccatore.  Ibid.  21.  Expositio  auctoritatis,  Stetit  populus  de  loiigej* 
&c.—  Tyrwhitt. 

6£SO.  J'ees,  no  more  of  this.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads,  and  sayd  the  Sompnow 
this. 

68S2.  leve.  This  word  is  omitted  in  the  Ms.  Harl.,  but  seems  necessary  for 
the  metre,  and  ie  adopted  from  the  Lansdown  Ms.  Tyrwhitt  has  oiwn  wwiis- 
ter. 

The  Frerrs  Tale.  It  IB  probable  that  Chaucer  took  this  admirable  story 
from  an  old  fabliau,  now  lost,  or  at  least  unknown.  It  lias,  however,  been 
preserved  in  an  abridged  form  in  a  tale  printed  in  mv  Seifctinn  of  Latin  Sto- 
ries, p.  70,  under  the  title  of  J>e  Advocato  et  J)iul>olo,  from  ihe  /'romptuariui:* 
Sxtwplorum,  »  work  compiled  lu  the  earlier  part  of  ihe  fifteenth  century. 


208  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  boldely  did  execucioun 

In  punyschyng  of  fornicacioun, 

Of  wicchecraft,  and  eek  of  bauderye 

Of  diffainacioun,  and  avoutrie, 

Of  chirche-reves,  and  of  testaruentes, 

Of  contractes,  and  of  lak  of  sacraments, 

And  eek  of  many  another  rnaner  cryme, 

Which  needith  not  to  reherse  at  this  tyme  ;  8890 

Of  usur,  and  of  symony  also  ; 

But  certes  lecchours  did  he  grettest  woo  ; 

Thay  schulde  synge,  if  thay  were  hent ; 

And  smale  tythers  thay  were  fouly  schent, 

If  eny  persoun  wold  upon  hem  pleyne, 

Ther  might  astert  him  no  pecunial  peyne. 

For  smale  tythes  and  for  smal  offryn^e, 

He  made  the  poeple  pitously  to  synge. 

For  er  the  bisschop  caught  hem  in  his  hook, 

They  weren  in  the  archedeknes  book  ;  6900 

And  hadde  thurgh  his  jurediccioun 

Power  to  have  of  hem  correccioun. 

He  had  a  sompnour  redy  to  his  hond, 

A  slyer  boy  was  noon  in  Engelond ; 

Ful  prively  he  had  his  espiaile, 

That  taughte  him  wher  he  might  avayle. 

He  couthe  spare  of  lecchours  oon  or  tuo, 

To  techen  him  to  four  and  twenty  mo. 

For  though  this  sompnour  wood  were  as  an  hare, 

To  telle  his  harlotry  I  wol  not  spare ;  6910 

For  we  ben  out  of  here  correccioun, 

Thay  have  of  us  no  jurediccioun, 

Ne  never  schul  to  terme  of  alle  her  lyves. 

"  Peter  !  so  been  the  wommen  of  the  styves," 

Quod  this  Sompnour,  "  i-put  out  of  oure  cures." 

"  Pees  !  with  meschaunce  and  with  mesa  vent  urea," 

Thus  sayd  our  host,  "  and  let  him  telle  his  tale. 

Now  telleth  forth,  although  the  Sompnour  gale, 

Ne  spareth  nought,  myn  owne  maister  deere." 

This  false  theef,  the  sompnour,  quoth  the  frere, 
Had  alway  bawdes  redy  to  his  hond,  9921 

As  eny  hauk  to  lure  in  Engelond, 
That  told  him  al  the  secre  that  thay  knewe, 
For  here  acqueintaunce  was  not  come  of  newe  ; 

6897.  rmale  tythes  and  for  smal  offrynre.  The  sermons  of  the  f rmrg  in  the 
fourteenth  century  were  most  frequently  designed  to  impress  the  absolute 
iity  of  paying  full  tithes  and  offerings,  \>hich  were  enforced  by  a  number  of 
;*gends  and  stories. 

C915.  quod  this  Synpnour.  The  Ms.  Hnrl.  reads  bore,  They  beth  i-put  ai 
i*tt,  &c. 


THE  FRERES  TALE.  209 

Thay  were  his  approwours  prively. 
He  took  himself  a  gret  profyt  therby  ; 
His  maister  knew  nat  alway  what  he  wan. 
Withoute  maundement,  a  lewed  man 
He  couthe  sornpne,  up  peyne  of  Cristes  curs, 
And  thay  were  glad  to  fille  wel  his  purs,  6930 

And  make  him  grete  festis  atte  nale. 
And  right  as  Judas  hadde  purses  smale 
.    And  was  a  theef,  right  such  a  theef  was  he, 
His  maister  had  not  half  his  duete  ; 
He  was  (if  I  schal  give  him  his  laude) 
A  theef,  a  sompnour,  and  eek  a  baude. 
And  he  had  wenches  at  his  retenue, 
That-whethir  that  sir  Robert  or  sir  Hughe, 
Or  Jak,  or  Rauf,  or  who  so  that  it  were 
That  lay  by  hem,  thay  told  it  in  his  eere.  6940 

Thus  was  the  wenche  and  he  of  oon  assent. 
And  he  wold  fecche  a  feyned  maundement, 
And  sompne  horn  to  chapitre  bothe  tuo, 
And  pyle  the  man,  and  let  the  wenche  go. 
Than  wold  he  sayn,  "  I  schal,  frend,  for  thy  sake, 
Don  strike  the  out  of  oure  lettres  blake  ; 
The  thar  no  more  as  in  this  cas  travayle  ; 
I  am  thy  frend  ther  I  the  may  avayle." 
Cei-teynly  he  knew  of  bribours  mo 

Than  possible  is  to  telle  in  yeres  tuo  ;  G950 

For  in  this  world  nys  dogge  for  the  bowe, 
That  can  an  hurt  deer  from  an  hoi  y-knowe 
Bet  than  this  sompnour  knew  a  leccheour, 
Or  avoutier,  or  ellis  a  paramour  ; 
And  for  that  was  the  fruyt  of  al  his  rent, 
Therfore  theron  he  set  al  his  entent. 
And  so  bifel,  that  oones  on  a  day 
This  sompnour,  ever  wayting  on  his  pray, 
Rod  forth  to  soinpne  a  widew,  an  old  ribibe, 

(M32.   Juilus.     According  to  the  medieval   legends,  Judas   was  Clirist'i 

Eurse-bearer,  and  embezzled  a  part  of  the  money  which  was  given  to  hiin  foi 
is  master.    We  pro  informed  in  the  metrical  life  of  Judas,  in  Ms.  Harl.  '.S/Ti 
(fol.  228  vo.),  that. 

Siththe  oure  Lovcrd  him  makede  apostle  to  fondi  his  mod, 

And  siththe  pursberer  of  his  pans  to  spene  al  his  god  ; 

For  meni  men  gyve  oure  Loverd  god  that  wore  of  gode  thoght, 

To  gusteyui  his  apostles,  other nadde  he  noght. 

Ac  tlio  Judas  withinne  was  and  his  mighte  founde, 

Of  oure  Loverdes  god  that  lie  wiste  he  Htal  al  to  grounde ; 

When  he  mighte  ot  eche  thing,  the  teothing  he  woldo  stele  : 

A  schrewe  he  was  al  his  lyf,  y  ne  mai  no  leng  he'.e. 

Wel  wiste  oure  Loverd  thas  and  al  his  lither  dede, 

Ac  uatheles  he  moste  fulfulle  that  the  prophete*  gede. 


210  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Feynyng  a  cause,  for  he  wolde  ban  a  bribe.  0960 

And  happed  that  he  say  bifore  him  ryde 
A  gay  yeinan  under  a  forest  syde  ; 
A  bow  he  bar,  and  arwes  bright  and  kene, 
He  had  upon  a  courtepy  of  grene, 
An  hat  upon  his  heed,  with  frenges  blake. 
"  Sir,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "  heyl  and  we!  overtake  !  " 
"  Welcome,"  quod  he,  "  and  every  good  felawe ; 
Whider  ridestow  under  this  grene  schawe  '  " 
Sayde  this  yiman,  "  Wiltow  fer  to  day  ?  ': 
This  sompnour  answerd,  and  sayde,  "  Nay.  6970 

Her  faste  by,"  quod  he,  "  is  myn  entent 
To  ryden,  for  to  reysen  up  a  rent, 
That  longith  to  my  lordes  duete." 
'  Artow  than  a  bayely  ?  "     "  Ye,"  quod  he. 
fie  durste  not  for  verray  filth  and  schame 
Sayn  that  he  was  a  sompnour,  for  the  name. 

"  De  par  dieux  !  "   quod  the  yeman,  "  lieve  brotner, 
Thou  art  a  bayly,  and  I  am  another. 
I  am  unknowen,  as  in  this  contre  ; 
Of  thin  acqueintance  I  wol  praye  the,  6980 

And  eek  of  brotherheed,  if  it  yow  lest. 
I  have  gold  and  silver  in  my  chest  ; 
If  that  the  happe  come  into  oure  schire, 
Al  schal  be  thin,  right  as  thou  wolt  desire." 
"  Gfraunt  mercy,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "  by  rny  faith  !  ' 
Everich  in  otheres  bond  his  trouthe  laith, 
For  to  be  sworne  bretheren  til  thay  deyen. 
In  daliaunce  forth  thay  ride  and  pleyen. 

This  sompnour,  which  that  was  as  ful  of  jangles, 
As  ful  of  venym  ben  these  weryangles,  0990 

And  ever  enquering  upon  every  thing, 
"  Brother,"  quod  he,  "  wher  now  is  your  dwellyng, 
Another  day  if  that  I  schuld  yow  secche?  " 
This  yiman  him  answered  in  softe  speche  : 
"  Brother,"  quod  he,  "  fer  in  the  north  contre, 
Wheras  I  hope  somtyme  I  schal  the  se. 
Er  we  depart  I  schal  the  so  wel  wisse, 
That  of  myn  Irous  ne  schaltow  never  misse." 
"  Now,  brother,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "I  yow  pray, 
Teche  me,  whil  that  we  ryden  by  the  way,  7000 

6960.  han  a.     These  words  are  omitted  in  the  Harl.  and  I.ansd.  MSB. 

6974.  Ye.  This  word  is  omitted  In  the  Harl.  Ms.,  probably  by  an  orer- 
light. 

6987.  sworne  bretheren.  The  custom  of  swearing  fraternity  nas  been  al- 
ready alluded  to  in  a  note  on  1.  1134. 

6995.  north  contre.  According  to  medieval  legends,  hell  lay  to  the  norU> 
(•««  my  Patrick's  Purgatory),  sc  that  there  is  irony  in  this  reply. 


TBR  FRERES  TALE.  211 

Syn  that  ye  ben  a  baily  as  am  I, 

Som  subtilte,  as  tel  me  faithfully 

In  myn  office  how  that  I  me,y  wynne. 

And  spare  not  for  consciens  or  for  synne, 

But,  as  my  brother,  tel  me  how  do  ye." 

"  Now,  by  my  trouthe,  brothir  myn,"  eayd  he, 
"  As  I  schal  telle  the  a  faithful  tale. 
My  wages  ben  ful  streyt  and  eek  ful  smale  ; 
My  lord  to  me  is  hard  and  daungerous, 
And  myn  office  is  ful  laborous  ;  7020 

And  therfor  by  extorciouns  I  lyve, 
Fosoth  I  take  al  that  men  wil  me  give, 
Algate  by  sleighte  or  by  violence 
Fro  yer  to  yer  I  wynne  my  despence  ; 
I  can  no  better  telle  faithfully." 

"  Now  certes,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "so  fare  I ; 
I  spare  not  to  take,  God  it  woot, 
But  if  it  be  to  hevy  or  to  hoot. 
What  I  may  gete  in  counseil  prively, 
No  more  consciens  of  that  have  I.  7020 

Nere  myn  extorcions,  I  might  not  lyven, 
Ne  of  such  japes  I  wil  not  be  schriven. 
Stomak  ne  conscience  know  I  noon  ; 
I  schrew  thes  schrifte-fadres  everychoon. 
\Vel  be  we  met,  by  God  and  seint  Jame ! 
But,  leve  brother,  telle  me  thy  name," 
Quod  this  sompnour.     In  this  mene  while 
This  yeman  gan  a  litel  for  to  smyle. 
"  Brothir,"  quod  he,  "  woltow  that  I  the  telle  ? 
I  am  a  feend,  my  dwellyng  is  in  helle,  7030 

And  her  I  ryde  about  my  purchasyng, 
To  wite  wher  men  wol  give  me  eny  thing. 
My  purchas  is  theffect  of  al  my  rent. 
Loke  how  thou  ridest  for  the  same  entent 
To  wynne  good,  thou  rekkist  never  how, 
Right  so  fare  I,  for  ryde  I  wolde  now 
Un:o  the  worldes  eiide  for  a  pray." 

'  A  I  "  quod  the  sompnour,  "  benedicite,  what  ye  say  ? 
I  wende  ye  were  a  yeman  trewely. 

Ye  han  a  mannes  schap  as  wel  as  I.  7040 

Have  ye  a  figure  than  determinate 

7009.  hard.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  streyt,  probably  a  mere  error,  arising 
trom  the  occurrence  of  the  same  word  in  the  preceding  line. 

7018.  tc  htvy  or  to  hoot.  This  was  a  conunon  expression.  Tyrwhitt  quote* 
an  example  from  Frolssart,  v.  i.  c.  229,  ne  laissoient  rien  a  prendre,  s'il  n'es- 
toit  trop  chaud,  trop  frold,  ou  trap  pesant. 

7041.  figure  than  determinate.  In  this  and  the  following  lines,  Chaucer 
ente/s  into  the  ordinary  philosophical  speculations  of  hie  time  on  the  nature 
of  spirit*. 


212  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


In  helle,  ther  ye  ben  in  your  estate  ?  " 
"  Nay,  certeynly,"  quod  he,  "  ther  have  we  non, 
But  whan  us  likith  we  can  take  us  on, 
Or  ellis  make  yow  seme  that  we  ben  schape 
Soir  tyme  like  a  man,  or  like  an  ape  ; 
Or   .  k  an  aungel  can  I  ryde  or  go  ; 
It  is  no  wonder  thing  though  it  be  so, 
A  lousy  jogelour  can  deceyve  the, 

And,  parfay,  yit  can  I  more  craft  than  he."  7U50 

"  Why,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "  ryde  yetlian  or  goon 
In  sondry  wyse,  and  nought  alway  in  oon  ?  " 
"  For,"  quod  he,  "  we  wol  us  in  such  forme  make, 
As  most  abil  is  oure  pray  to  take." 
"  What  makith  yow  to  have  al  this  labour  ?  " 
"  Ful  many  a  cause,  lieve  sir  sompnour," 
Sayde  this  feerid.     "  But  al  thing  hath  a  tyme  ; 
The  day  is  schort,  and  it  is  passed  prime, 
And  yit  ne  wan  I  nothing  in  this  day  \ 
I  wol  entent  to  wynnyng,  if  I  may,  7060 

And  not  entende  oure  thinges  to  declare  ; 
For,  brother  myn,  thy  wit  is  al  to  bare 
To  understond,  although  I  told  hem  the. 
For  but  thou  axid  whi  laboure  we  ; 
For  som  tyme  we  ben  Goddis  instrumentes, 
And  menes  to  don  his  comaundementes, 
Whan  that  him  list,  upon  his  creatures, 
In  divers  act  and  in  divers  figures. 
Withouten  him  we  have  no  might  certeyn, 
If  that  him  liste  stonde  ther  agayn.  7070 

And  som  tyme  at  our  prayer  have  we  leeve, 
Only  the  body,  and  not  the  soule  greve  ; 
Witness  on  Jobe,  whom  we  dide  ful  wo. 
And  som  tyme  have  we  might  on  bothe  tuo, 
This  is  to  say  of  body  and  soule  eeke. 
And  som  tyme  be  we  suffred  for  to  seeke 
Upon  a  man,  and  doori  his  soule  unrest 
And  not  his  body,  and  al  is  for  the  best. 
Whan  he  withstondith  oure  temptacioun, 
It  is  a  cause  of  his  savacioun,  706U 

7044.  take.  The  Harl.  Ms.  has  make,  but  the  reading  of  the  Lansd.  MB., 
were  adopted,  seems  best. 

704S  yow  seme,  i.  e.  make  it  seem  to  you.  Tyrwhitt  reads  went,  but  tUe 
reading  of  the  present  text  is  supported  by  the  best  MSS. 

704!».  lou.:y  jogelour.  The  jogelour  (joculator)  was  originally  the  minstrel, 
and  at  an  earlier  period  was  an  important  member  of  society.  He  always 
combined  mimicry  and  mountebank  performances  with  poetry  and  music. 
In  Chaucer's  time  he  had  so  far  degenerated  as  to  have  become  a  mere 
mountebank,  and,  as  it  appears,  to  have  merited  the  ener£*Uc  epithet  here 
applied  to  him. 


THE  FRERES  TALE.  213 


Al  be  it  so  it  was  nought  oure  entent 

He  schuld  be  sauf,  but  that  we  wold  him  hent. 

And  sonrtyme  we  ben  servaunt  unto  man 

As  to  therchebisschop  seynt  Dunstan, 

And  to  thapostolis,  servaunt  was  I." 

"Tit  tel  me,"  quod  the  sompnour,  "  faithfully, 
Make  ye  yow  newe  bodies  alway 
Of  elementz?  "     The  fend  answerde,  "  Nay  ; 
Som  tyme  we  feyne,  and  som  tyme  we  ryse 
With  dede  bodies,  in  ful  wonder  wyse,  90 

And  speke  renably,  and  as  fair  and  wel 
As  to  the  Phitonissa  dede  Samuel ; 
And  yit  wol  somme  say,  it  was  not  he. 
I  do  no  fors  of  your  divinite. 
But  oon  thing  warne  I  the,  I  wol  not  jape, 
Thou  wilt  algates  wite  how  we  ben  schape  : 
Thow  schalt  herafter-ward,  my  brother  deere, 
Com,  wher  the  nedith  nothing  for  to  leere, 
For  thou  schalt  by  thin  oughn  experience 
Conne  in  a  chayer  reden  of  this  sentence  7100 

Bet  than  Virgile,  wliils  he  was  on  ly  ve, 
Or  Daunt  also.     Now  let  us  ryde  bly  ve, 
For  I  wol  holde  company  with  the, 
Til  it  be  so  that  thou  forsake  me." 
"Nay,"  quod  the  sompnour,  "that  schal  nought  be> 

tyde. 

I  am  a  yiman  that  knowen  is  ful  wyde  ; 
My  trouthe  wol  I  hold,  as  in  this  caas. 
For  though  thou  be  the  devyl  Sathanas, 
My  trouthe  wol  I  holde  to  the,  my  brother, 
As  I  am  swore,  and  ech  of  us  to  other,  71  Iv 

For  to  be  trewe  bretheren  in  this  caas  ; 
For  bothe  we  goon  abouten  oure  purchas. 
Tak  thou  thi  part,  and  that  men  wil  the  gyven, 
And  I  schal  myn,  thus  may  we  bothe  lyven. 
And  if  eny  of  us  have  more  than  other, 
Let  him  be  trewe,  and  part  it  with  his  brother." 
"  I  graunte,"  quod  the  devel,  "  by  my  fay  1  " 
And  with  that  word  thay  riden  forth  her  way  ; 
And  right  at  thentryng  of  a  townes  ende,  111  it 

To  which  this  sompnour  schope  him  for  to  wende, 
Thay  seigh  a  cart,  that  chargid  was  with  hay, 

7084.  seynt  Dunstan.  This  probably  alludes  to  some  popular  story  of  Dan 
itan  now  lost. 

7090.  dede  bodies.  The  adoption  of  the  bodies  of  the  deceased  by  evL 
fpirits  in  their  wandering!  upon  earth,  was  an  importune  part  of  the  medi» 
Yftl  superstition!  of  this  country,  and  enters  largely  into  a  variety  of  legeno 
\ry  storie!  found  in  the  old  chroniclers. 


214  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Which  that  a  carter  drof  forth  in  his  way. 

Deep  was  the  way,  for  which  the  carte  stood  ; 

This  carter  srnoot,  and  cryde  as  he  wer  wood, 

"  Hayt,   brok ;    hayt,  stot ;     what  spare    ye   for    tie 

stoones  ? 

The  fend,"  quod  he,  "  yow  fech  body  and  bones, 
As  ferfcrthly  as  ever  wer  ye  folid  ! 
So  moche  wo  as  I  have  with  yow  tholid  1 
The  devyl  have  al,  bothe  cart  and  hors  and  hay !  " 
This  sompnour  sayde,  "  Her  schal  we  se  play."        7130 
And  ner  the  feend  he  drough,  as  nought  ne  were, 
Ful  prively,  and  rouned  in  his  eere, 
"  Herke,  my  brother,  harke,  by  tin  faith  ! 
Ne  herest  nought  thou  what  the  carter  saith  ? 
Bent  it  anoon,  for  he  hath  given  it  the, 
Bothe  hay  and  oaples,  and  eek  his  cart,  pard    !  " 

"  Nay,"  quod  the  devyl,  "  God  wot,  never  a  del, 
It  is  nought  his  entente,  trustith  wel, 
Ask  it  thiself,  if  thou  not  trowist  me, 
Or  ellis  stint  a  while  and  thou  schalt  se."  7140 

This  carter  thakketh  his  hors  upon  the  croupe, 
And  thay  bygon  to  drawen  and  to  stowpe. 
'  Hayt  now,"  quod  he,  "  ther  Jhesu  Crist  yow  blesse, 
And  al  his  hondwerk,  bothe  more  and  lesse  ! 
That  was  wel  twight,  myn  oughne  lyard,  boy, 
1  pray  God  save  thy  body  and  seint  Loy. 
Now  is  my  cart  out  of  the  sloo  parde  !  " 
"  Lo  I  brother,"  quod  the  feend,  "  what  told  I  the  ? 
Her  may  ye  seen,  myn  owne  deere  brother, 
The  carter  spak  oon  thing,  and  thought  another. 
Let  us  go  forth  abouten  our  viage ;  715J 

Hier  wynne  I  nothing  upon  cariage." 

Whan  that  thay  comen  somwhat  out  of  toune, 
This  sompnour  to  his  brothir  gan  to  roune  ; 
"  Brothir,"  quod  he,  "  her  wonyth  an  old  rebekke, 
That  had  almost  as  lief  to  leese  hir  necke 
As  for  to  give  a  peny  of  hir  good. 
I  wol  han  twelf  pens  though  that  scfc  e  go  wood, 
Or  I  wol  somone  hir  to  oure  office  ; 
And  yit,  God  wot,  I  know  of  hir  no  vice.  7160 

But  for  thou  canst  not,  as  in  this  contr  , 
Wynne  thy  cost,  tak  her  ensample  of  me." 
This  sompnour  clapped  at  the  widowes  gate  ; 

7130.  seplay.  The  Laned.  Ms.  reads,  have  apleie.  Tyrwhitt's  reading  Is, 
4ave  a  pray. 

7168.  wol  han  twelf.  By  a  curious  error  of  the  scribe  these  three  word*  are 
coDtractel  into  wolf  in.  the  Harl.  Ms. 


THE  FRERES  TALE.  215 


*:  Com  out,"  quod  he,  "  thou  olde  viritrate  ; 

I  trowe  thou  hast  som  frere  or  prest  with  the. 

"  Who  clappith  ther  ?  "  sayd  this  widow,  "  benedictte  i 

God  save  yow,  sir!  what  is  your  swete  wille  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  quod  he,  "  a  somonaunce  of  a  bille, 

dp  payne  of  cursyng,  loke  that  thou  be 

To  inorvve  biforn  our  erchedeknes  kne,  7170 

To  answer  to  the  court  of  certeyn  thinges." 

•'Now,"    quod    sche,    "Jhesu   Christ,    and    king  of 

kinges, 

So  wisly  helpe  me,  as  I  ne  may. 
I  have  ben  seek,  and  that  ful  many  a  day. 
I  may  not  goon  so  fer,"  quod  sche,  "  ne  ryde, 
But  I  be  deed,  so  prikith  it  in  my  syde. 
May  I  nat  aske  a  lybel,  sir  sompriour, 
And  .answer  ther  by  my  procuratour 
To  suche  thing  as  men  wol  oppose  me?" 
"  Yis,"  quod  this  sompnour,  "  pay  anoon,  let  se, 
Twelf  pens  to  me,  and  1  the  wil  acquite.  7181 

I  schal  no  profyt  have  therby  but  lite  ; 
My  mayster  hath  the  profyt  and  not  I. 
Com  of,  and  let  me  rydeii  hastily  ; 
ttif  me  my  twelf  pens,  I  may  no  longer  tary." 
"  Twelf  pens  ?  "  quod  sche,  "  now  lady  seinte  Mary 
So  wisly  help  me  out  of  care  and  synne, 
This  wyde  world  though  that  I  schukle  wynrie, 
Ne  have  I  not  twelf  pens  withinne  myn  hold. 
Ye  knowen  wel  that  I  am  pore  and  old  ;  7190 

Kithe  youre  alines  on  me  pore  wrecche." 
"  Nay  than,"  quod  he,  "  the  foule  fend  me  fecche! 
If  I  thexcuse,  though  thouschalt  be  spilt." 

'  Alias!  "  quod  sche,   "  God  wot,  I  have  no  gilt." 
"  Pay  me,"  quod  he,  "  or  by  the  swet  seint  Anne ! 
As  I  wol  bere  away  thy  newe  panne 
For  dette,  which  thou  owest  me  of  old, 
Whan  that  thou  madest  thin  hou&bond  cokewold, 
I  payd  at  horn  for  thy  correccioun." 
"Thou  lixt,"  quod  sche,   "  by  my  savacioun,          7200 
.N  )  was  I  never  er  now,  wydow  ne  wyf, 
Suuound  unto  your  court  in  al  my  lyf  ; 
Ne  never  I  was  but  of  my  body  trewe. 
Unto  the  devel  rough  and  blak  of  hiewe 
Give  I  thy  body  and  the  panne  also  !  " 
And  whan  the  devyl  herd  hir  curse  so 

7186.  t^elfp':ns.    The  penny  was  at  this  time  n  coin  of  much  greater  rel* 
TC  value  than  the  coin  known  under  that  name  at  the  present  day. 


216  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Upon  hir  knees,  he  sayd  in  this  manere  : 

"  Now,  Mabely,  myn  owne  modir  deere, 

Is  this  your  wil  in  ernest  that  ye  seye  ?  " 

"  The  devel,"  quod  sche,  "  fecche  hjui  er  he  deye, 

And  panne  and  al,  but  he  wol  him  repente  !  "        721] 

"  Nay,  olde  stot,  that  is  not  rayn  entente," 
Quod  this  sompnour,  "  for  to  repente  me 
For  eny  thing  that  I  have  had  of  the  ; 
I  wold  I  had  thy  smok  and  every  cloth." 

"  Now  brothir,"  quod  the  devyl,  "  be  not  wroth  ; 
Thy  body  and  this  panne  is  myn  by  right. 
Thow  schalt  with  me  to  helle  yit  to  night, 
Wher  thou  schalt  knowen  of  oure  privet 
More  than  a  maister  of  divinit  ."  7220 

And  with  that  word  the  foule  fend  him  hente  ; 
Body  and  soule,  he  with  the  devyl  wente, 
Wher  as  the  sompnours  han  her  heritage  ; 
And  God  that  maked  after  his  ymage 
Mankynde,  save  and  gyde  us  alle  and  some, 
And  leeve  this  Sompnour  good  man  to  bycome. 

"  Lordyngs,  I  couth  han  told  yow,"  quod  the  frere, 
"  Had  I  had  leysir  for  this  Sompnour  here, 
After  the  text  of  Crist,  and  Powel,  and  Jon, 
And  of  oure  other  doctours  many  oon,  7230 

Such  peynes  that  our  herte  might  agrise, 
Al  be  it  so,  no  tonge  may  devyse, 
Thougn  that  I  might  a  thousand  wynter  te*le, 
The  peyn  of  thilke  cursed  hous  of  helle. 
But  for  to  kepe  us  from  that  cursed  place, 
Wakith,  and  prayeth  Jhesu  for  his  grace, 
So  kepe  us  fro  the  temptour  Sathanas. 
Herknith  this  word,  beth  war  as  in  this  cas. 
The  lyoun  syt  in  his  awayt  alway 

To  slen  the  innocent,  if  that  he  may.  7240 

Disposith  youre  hertes  to  withstonde 
The  fend,  that  wolde  make  yow  thral  and  bondo  , 
He  may  not  tempte  yow  over  yoxir  might, 
For  Crist  wol  be  your  champioun  and  knight ; 
And  prayeth,  that  oure  Sompnour  him  repente 
Of  his  inysdede,  er  that  the  fend  him  hente." 

THE  SOMPXOURKS   PBOLOGE. 

THIS  Sompnour  in  his  styrop  up  he  stood, 

Upon  the  Frere  his  herte  was  so  wood, 

That  lyk  an  aspen  leef  he  quok  for  ire, 

"  Lordyngs,"  quod  he,  "  but  oon  thing  I  desire ; 


THE  SOMPNOURES  PROLOGS.  217 

I  yow  bis«ke,  that  of  your  curtesye,  7251 

Syn  ye  ban  herd  this  false  Frere  lye, 

As  suffrith  me  I  may  my  tale  telle. 

This  Frere  bosteth  that  he  knowith  helle, 

And,  God  it  wot,  that  is  litil  wonder, 

Frires  and  feendes  been  but  litel  asonder. 

For,  pardy,  ye  han  often  tyme  herd  telle, 

How  that  a  frere  ravyscht  was  to  helle 

In  spirit  ones  by  a  visioun, 

And  as  an  aungel  lad  him  up  and  doun,  7260 

To  schewen  him  the  peynes  that  ther  were, 

In  al  the  place  saugh  he  not  a  frere, 

Of  other  folk  he  saugh  y-nowe  in  wo. 

Unto  this  aungel  spak  this  frere  tho  : 

'  Now,  sire,'  quod  he,  '  han  freres  such  a  grace, 

That  noon  of  hem  schal  comen  in  this  place  ?  ' 

'  Yis,'  quod  this  aungil,  '  many  a  mylioun.' 

And  unto  Sathanas  he  lad  him  doun. 

'  And  now  ha'h  Sathanas,'  saith  he,  '  a  tayl 

Broder  than  of  a  carrik  is  the  sayl.'  7270 

'  Hold  up  thy  tayl,  thou  Sathanas,'  quod  he, 

'  Schew  forth  thyn  ers,  and  let  the  frere  se 

Wher  is  the  nest  of  freres  in  this  place.' 

And  er  than  half  a  forlong  way  of  space, 

Right  so  as  bees  swarmeri  out  of  an  hyve, 

Out  of  the  develes  ers  thay  gonne  dryve, 

Twenty  thousand  freres  on  a  route, 

And  thorughout  helle  swarmed  al  aboute, 

And  comen  agen,  as  fast  as  thay  may  goon, 

And  in  his  ers  thay  crepen  everichoon.  7280 

He  clappid  his  tayl  agayn,  and  lay  ful  stille. 

This  frere,  whan  he  loked  had  his  fille 

Upon  the  torment  of  this  sory  place, 

His  spirit  God  restored  of  his  grace 

Unto  his  body  agayn,  and  he  awook  j 

But  natheles  for  fere  yit  he  quook, 

So  was  the  develes  ers  yit  in  his  mynde, 

That  is  his  heritage  of  verray  kynde. 

God  save  yow  alle,  save  this  cursed  Frere  ; 

My  prolong  wol  I  ende  in  this  manere."  7296 


"18  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE. 

LORDYNGS,  ther  is  in  Engelond,  I  gesse, 

A  mersschly  lond  called  Holdernesse, 

In  which  ther  went  a  lymytour  aboute 

To  preche,  and  eek  to  begge,  it  is  no  doubte. 

And  so  bifel  it  on  a  day  this  frere 

Had  preched  at  a  chirch  in  his  manere, 

And  specially  aboven  every  thing 

Excited  he  the  poepul  in  his  preohing 

To  trentals,  and  to  give  for  Goddis  sake, 

Wherwith  men  niighten  holy  houses  make,  730C 

Ther  as  divine  servys  is  honoured, 

Nought  ther  as  it  is  wasted  and  devoured  ; 

Neither  it  needeth  not  for  to  be  give 

As  to  possessioneres,  that  mow  lyve, 

Thanked  be  God,  in  wele  and  abundaunce. 

"Trentals,"  sayd  he,  "  dely  vereth  fro  penaunce 

Her  frendes  soules,  as  wel  eld  as  yonge, 

Ye,  whanne  that  thay  hastily  ben  songe, 

Nought  for  to  hold  a  prest  jolif  and  gay, 

He  syngith  not  but  oon  masse  in  a  day.  7810 

Delyverith  out,"  quod  he,  "  anoon  the  soules. 

Ful  hard  it  is,  with  fleischhok  or  with  oules 

To  ben  y-clawed,  or  brend,  or  i-bake  ; 

Now  speed  yow  hastily  for  Cristes  sake." 

And  whan  this  frere  had  sayd  al  his  entent, 
With  qui  cum  patre  forth  his  way  he  went. 
Whan  folk  in  chirch  had  give  him  what  hem  lest, 
He  went  his  way,  no  longer  wold  he  rest, 
With  scrip  and  pyked  staf,  y-touked  hye  ; 
In  every  hous  he  gan  to  pore  and  prye,  7320 

flte  Sompnoures  Tale.  I  have  not  met  with  this  story  elsewhere.  It  is  a 
&ittej  satire  on  lie  covetousness  of  the  friars,  who  were  eager  and  officious 
attendants  on  the  death-beds  of  those  who  had  anything  to  give  away.  In 
this  respect  it  may  be  compared  with  the  satirical  notices  in  J'iers  I'lovujlir 
mans  Creed  e. 

7292,  /loldernesse.    This  district  lies  on  the  coast  of  Yorkshire. 

7300.  houses.     The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  soules. 

73(i}.  potsessioneres — i.  e.  the  regular  orders  of  monks,  who  possessed  landea 
rrooerty  and  enjoyed  rich  revenues.  The  friars  were  forbidden  by  their  rule 
to  possess  property,  which  they  only  did  under  false  pretences  :  they  depended 
for  support  on  voluntary  offerings. 

7:iOG.  Trentals.  A  service  of  thirty  masses,  for  which,  of  course,  the  friars 
required  a  much  greater  sum  than  for  a  single  mass. 

7311.  anoon.    This  word  is  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms. 

7312.  fleischhok  or  with  outes.     In  the  old  paintings  and  illuminatioi.g  repre- 
•enting  the  infernal  regions,  the  fiends  are  pictured  tearing  and  piercing  the 
wii-.ked  with  hooks  and  other  similar  instruments,  while  they  are  roasting  »n 
tires  and  boiling  in  pots,  and  tormented  in  other  similar  manners. 

731(1.  qui  cv-m  patre.  The  conclusion  of  the  formula  of  tinaL  benediction. 
Ms.  Harl.  oinitB  the  words  his  way,  which  seem  necessary  for  the  me'-re. 


THE  SOMPNOcm^S  TALE.  219 

Anl  beggyd  inele  or  chese,  or  elliB  corn. 

His  felaw  had  a  staf  typped  with  horn, 

A  payr  of  tablis  al  of  y vory, 

And  a  poyntel  y-polischt  fetisly, 

And  wroot  the  names  ahvay  as  he  stood 

Of  alle  folk  that  gaf  him  eny  good, 

Ascaunce  that  he  wolde  for  hem  preye. 

"  Gif  us  a  busshel  whet,  or  malt,  or  reye, 

A  Goddes  kichll,  or  a  trip  of  chese, 

Or  elles  what  yow  list,  we  may  not  chese  j  "880 

A  Goddes  halpeny,  or  a  masse  peny  ; 

Or  gif  us  of  youre  braune,  if  ye  have  eny, 

A  dagoun  of  your  blanket,  leeve  dame, 

Oure  suster  deer, — lo  !  her  I  write  your  name — 

Bacouii  or  beef,  or  such  thing  as  we  fynde." 

A  steurdy  harlot  ay  went  hem  byhynde, 

That  was  her  hostis  man,  and  bar  a  sak, 

And  what  men  gaf  hem,  layd  it  on  his  bak. 

And  whan  that  he  was  out  atte  dore,  anoon 

Ke  planed  out  the  names  evcrychoon,  7340 

That  he  biforn  had  writen  in  his  tablis ; 

lie  served  hem  with  nylles  and  with  fablis. 

"Nay,   ther  thou  lixt,  thou  Sompnour,"   sayd   the 

Frere. 

"  Pees,"  quod  our  host,  "  for  Cristes  moder  deere, 
Tel  forth  thy  tale,  and  spare  it  not  at  al." 
•'  So  thrive  I,"  quod  the  Sompnour,  "so  1  schal  !'• 

So  long  he  wente  hous  by  hous,  til  he 
Cam  til  an  hous,  ther  he  was  wont  to  be 
Refresshid  mor  than  in  an  hundrid  placis. 
Syk  lay  the  housbond  man,  whos  that  the  place  is, 
Bedred  upon  a  couche  lowe  he  lay. 
"  Deus  hie,"  quod  he,  "O  Thomas,  frend, 
Sayde  this  frere  al  curteysly  and  softe. 
"  O  Thomas,  God  yeld  it  yow,  ful  ofte 
Have  I  upon  this  bench  i-fare  fel  wel, 
Her  have  I  eten  many  a  mery  mel." 
And  fro  the  bench  he  drof  away  the  cat, 
And  layd  adoun  his  potent  arid  his  hat, 

7329.  A  Goddes  kichil.  Tyrwhitt  explains  this  phraae  by  a  note  of  M.  D« 
.a  Monnaye  on  the  Contes  of  Bonarenture  des  Peiiers,  t.  ii.  p.  107.  Bellt 
serrurc  tie  It'nu  .  .  .  expression  du  petit  pcuple,  qni  rapporte  pieusement 
tout  k  Dieii. — Hien  n'est  plus  ceinmun  dans  la  bouclie  des  bonnes  vieilleg,  que 
teg  eeueces  d'fJebraYsmes  :  //  m'cn  cudte  un  bel  ecu  da  Dleu!  H  ne  me  reste  que 
ce  paurri  Cnftnitde  Dlcu ;  J>onnez-moi  tine  binite  aumonf  tie  Dleu.  So  we 
have  two  luiee  below,  -i  Codtlts  halimny. 

7ii«U.  Dvus  hie :  Ciod  be  hero  !  uio  ordinary  formula  of  benediction  on  CD 
teiiny  a  bonne 


220  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  eek  h?s  scrip,  and  set,  him  soft  adoun  ; 

His  felaw  was  go  walkid  in  the  toun  7360 

Forth  with  his-  knave,  into  the  ostelrye, 

Wher  as  he  schop  him  tliilke  night  to  lye. 

"  O  deere  maister,"  quod  the  seeke  man, 

How  have  ye  fare  siththe  March  bygan  'i 
I  saygh  yow  nought  this  fourtenight  or  more." 

"  God  wot."  quod  ho,  "  labord  have  I  ful  sore  ] 
And  specially  for  thy  salvacioun 
Have  I  sayd  many  a  precious  orisoun, 
And  for  myn. other  frmides,  God  hem  blesse. 
I  have  to  day  ben  at  your  chirche  at  messe,  7370 

And  sayd  a  sermon n  after  my  simple  wit, 
Nought  al  after  the  tnxt  of  holy  wryt. 
For  it  is  hard  for  yow,  as  I  suppose, 
And  therfor  wil  I  teche  yow  ay  the  glose. 
Glosyng  is  a  ful  glorious  thing  certayn, 
For  letter  sleth,  so  as  we  clerkes  sayn. 
Ther  have  I  taught  hem  to  be  charitable, 
And  spend  her  good  ther  it  is  resonable  ; 
And  ther  I  seigh  our  dame,  wher  is  she  ?  " 
"  Yond  in  the  yerd  I  trowe  that  sche  be,"  7380 

Sayde  this  man,  "  and  sche  wil  come  anoon." 

"  Ey,  mayster,  welcome  be  ye,  by  seint  Johan  !  " 
Sayde  this  wyf,  "  how  fare  ye  hertily  ?" 

The  frere  ariseth  up  ful  curteysly, 
And  her  embracith  in  his  armes  narwe, 
And  kist  hir  swete,  and  chirkith  as  a  sparwe 
With  Ids  lippes  :  "  Dame,"  quod  he,  "  right  wel, 
As  he  that  is  your  ser vaunt  everydel. 
Thankyd  be  God,  that  yow  gaf  soule  and  lif, 
Yit  saugh  I  not  this  day  so  fair  a  wyf  7390 

In  al  the  chirche,  God  so  save  me." 

"  Ye,  God  amend  defautes,  sir,"  quod  sche, 
"  Algates  welcome  be  ye,  by  my  fay." 
"  Graunt  mercy,  dame  ;  this  have  I  found  alway. 
But  of  your  grete  goodues,  by  youre  leve, 
I  wolde  pray  yow  that  ye  yow  not  greeve, 
I  wil  with  Thomas  speke  a  litel  thro  we  ; 
These  curates  ben  ful  negligent  and  slowe 
To  grope  teiidurly  a  conscience. 

In  schrift  and  preening  is  my  diligence,  7400 

And  study  in  Petres  wordes  and  in  Poules, 
I  walk  and  fissche  Cristen  merines  soules, 
To  yelde  Jhesu  Crist  his  propre  rent ; 
To  spreden  his  word  is  al  myn  entent." 

"  Now,  by  your  leve,  o  deere  sir,"  quod  sclie. 


THE  SOMFNOURES  TALE  221 

"  Chyd  him  right  wel  for  seinte  Trinite. 

He  is  as  angry  as  a  pissemyre, 

Though  that  he  have  al  that  he  can  desire, 

Though  I  him  wrye  on  night,  and  make  him  warm, 

And  over  him  lay  my  leg  other  myn  arm,  741  v 

He  grorieth  lik  our  boor,  that  lith  in  sty. 

C~tl  ir  disport  of  him  right  noon  toave  I. 

1  iL.ay  please  him  in  no  maner  caas." 

"  O  Thomas,  jeo  voiis  dy,  Thomas,  Thomas, 
This  niakth  the  feend,  this  moste  ben  amendid. 
Ire  is  a  thing  that  highe  God  defendid, 
And  therof  wold  I  spoke  a  word  or  tuo." 

"  Now,  maister,"  quod  the  wyf,  "  er  that  I  go, 
What  wil  ye  dine  ?  I  wil  go  theraboute." 
"Now,  dame,"  quod  he,  "jeo  nous  dy  saunz  doute, 
Have- 1  not  of  a  capoun  but  the  lyvere,  7481 

And  of  your  softe  brede  but  a  schivere, 
And  after  that  a  rv^tyd  pigges  heed, 
(But  that  I  wold  tor  me  no  best  were  deed) 
Than  had  I  with  yow  homly  suffisaunce. 
I  am  a  man  of  litel  sustinaunce. 
My  spirit  hath  his  fostryng  on  the  Bible. 
The  body  is  ay  so  redy  and  so  penyble 
To  wake,  that  mystomak  is  destroyed. 
1  pray  yow,  dame,  that  ye  be  not  anoyed,  7430 

For  I  so  frendly  yow  my  counseil  schewe  ; 
By  God  I  I  nold  not  telle  it  but  a  fewe." 

"  Now,  sir,"  quod  sche,  "  but  o  word  er  I  go. 
My  child  is  deed  withinne  this  wykes  tuo, 
Soon  after  that  ye  went  out  of  this  toun." 

"  His  deth  saugh  I  by  revelacioun," 
Snyde  this  frere,  "  at  hoom  in  oure  dortour 
1  dar  wel  sayn,  er  that  half  an  hour 
After  his  deth,  I  seigh  him  born  to  blisse 
In  myn  avysioun,  so  God  me  wisse.  744- 

So  did  our  sextein,  and  our  fermerere, 
That  han  ben  trewe  freres  fifty  yere  ; 
Thay  may  now,  God  be  thanked  of  his  lone, 
Maken  her  jubile,  and  walk  alloone. 
And  up  1  roos,  and  al  our  covent  eeke, 
With  uiauy  a  teere  trilling  on  my  cheeke, 

T444.  jubili.    "  Se«  Dueange  in  v.  SempectvE.    Peculiar  honors  and  Immuni- 
rtei  were  granted  by  the  Kule  of  St.  Benedict  to  those  monks,  t/ul  t/uint/wt- 

finta  annon  in  ordit:t  exegerant,  </IMS  annum  jubilieum  rxeyisjc  vuli/o  ilicimui. 
t  is  probable  that  aome  similar  regulation  obUtined  in  the  other  orders." — 
Tyrwhitt.  'l"ho  Hurl.  Ala.  hits  many  instead  ol  Jifty,  whk-h  latter  reading 
if  given  by  M«.  Ijtuad.,  and  would  seeiu  by  the  context  to  be  the  correct  »u«. 


222  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Te  Deum  was  our  song,  and  nothing  ellis, 

Withouten  noys   or  claterying  of  bellis, 

Save  that  to  Crist  I  sayd  an  orisoun, 

Tkankyng  him  of  my  revelacioun.  7450 

For,  sire  and  dame,  trustith  me  right  wel, 

Our  orisouns  ben  more  effectuel, 

And  more  \ve  se  of  Goddis  secre  thinges, 

Than  borel  folk,  although  that  thay  ben  kingea. 

We  lyve  in  povert  and  in  abstinence, 

And  borel  folk  in  riches  and  dispence 

Of  mete  and  drink,  and  in  her  fill  delyt. 

We  han  al  this  worldes  lust  al  in  despyt. 

Lazar  and  Dives  lyveden  diversely, 

And  divers  guerdoun  hadde  thay  thereby.  746V, 

Who  so  wol  praye,  he  must  faste,  and  be  dene, 

And  fatte  his  soule,  and  make  his  body  lene. 

We  faren,  as  saith  thapostil  ;  cloth  and  foode 

Sufficeth  us,  though  thay  ben  not  goode. 

The  clennes  and  the  fastyng  of  us  freres 

Ma'kith  that  Crist  acceptith  oure  prayeres. 

Lo,  Moyses  fourty  dayes  arid  fourty  night 

Fasted,  er  that  the  highe  God  of  might 

Spak  with  him  in  the  mount  of  Synay  ; 

With  empty  wombe  fastyng  many  a  day,  Y470 

Receyved  he  the  lawe,  that  was  writen 

With  Goddis  fynger  ;  and  Eli,  wel  ye  witen, 

In  mount  Oreb,  er  he  had  any  speche 

With  highe  God,  that  is  oure  lyves  leche, 

He  fastid,  and  was  in  contemplaeioun. 

Aron,  that  hud  the  temple  in  governacioun, 

And  eek  the  other  prestes  everychoon, 

Into  the  temple  whan  thay  schulden  goon 

To  preye  for  the  poeple,  and  doon  servise, 

Thay  nolden  drinkeri  in  no  maner  wise  74§0 

No  drynke,  which  that  dronke  might  hem  make, 

But  ther  in  abstinence  prey  and  wake, 

Lest  that  thay  dedin;  tak  heed  what  I  say  — 

But  thay  ben  sobre  that  for  the  pepul  pray  — 

War  that  I  say  —  no  mor  ;  for  it  suffisith. 

Oure  Lord  Jhesu,  as  oure  lore  devysith, 

7454.  korelfolk—  laymen.  The  term  appears  to  have  arisen  from  the  3iat«- 
tlAl  of  U-cir  clothing,  which  was  not  used  by  the  clergy. 

T45fi.  /n.*C  al.  [  have  adopted  th^  reading  from  the  Lansdowne  Ms.,  aj 
She  reading  of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  iltlit,  srems  to  have  been  an  error  of  the  scribe, 
who  had  in  his  ears  the  laat,  word  of  tho  preceding  line. 

7-Kil.  he  mutt.    These  words,  oniiu:-d  in  tho  Harl.  Ms.,  seem  necessary  to 


74%.  o«re  lore.     The  LansU-  Ms.  retuls  holy  God,  and  TyTwhitt  giv 
•frit. 


THE  H  OMPNOURES  TALE.  223 


Oaf  us  ensainpil  of  fastyng  and  prayeres  ; 

Therfore  we  mendinauntz,  we  sely  freres. 

Ben  wedded  to  povert  and  to  continence, 

To  charite,  humblesse,  and  abstinence,  7490 

To  persecucioun  for  rightwisnesse, 

To  wepyng,  misericord,  and  clennesse. 

And  therfor  may  ye  seen  that  oure  prayeres 

(1  speke  of  us,  we  mendeaunts,  we  freres) 

Men  to  the  hilie  God  mor  acceptable 

Than  youres,  with  your  f'estis  at  your  table. 

Fro  Paradis  first,  if  I  sclial  not  lye, 

Was  man  out  chaced  for  his  glotonye, 

And  chast  was  man  in  Paradis  certeyn. 

But  now  herk.  Thomas,  what  I  schal  the  seyn,        7500 

I  ne  have  no  tixt  of  it,  as  I  suppose, 

But  I  schal  fynd  it  in  a  maner  glose  ; 

That  specially  our  swete  Lord  jhesus 

Spak  this  by  freres,  whan  he  sayde  thus, 

Blessed  be  thay  that  pover  in  spirit  ben. 

And  so  forth  in  the  gospel  ye  may  seen, 

Whether  it  be  likir  oure  professioun, 

Or  heris  that  swymmen  in  possessioun. 

Fy  on  her  pomp,  and  on  her  glotenye, 

And  on  her  lewydnesse  1  I  hem  defye.  7510 

Me  thinkith  thay  ben  lik  Jovynian, 

Fat  as  a  whal,  and  walken  as  a  swan  j 

Al  vinolent  as  botel  in  the  spence. 

Her  prayer  is  of  ful  gret  reverence  j 

Whan  thay  for  soules  sayn  the  Psalm  of  David, 

Lo,  boef  thay  say.  Cor  meumeruc.tamt. 

Who  folwith  Cristes  gospel  and  his  lore 

But  we,  tnat  humble  oen,  and  chast,  and  pore, 

Workers  of  Goddes  word,  not  auditours  ? 

Therfor  riglit  as  an  hauk  upon  a  sours  75>0 

Upspringeth  into  thaer,  right  so  prayeres 

Of  charitabil  and  chaste  busy  freres 

Maken  her  sours  to  Goddis  eeres  tuo. 

Thomas,  Thomas,  so  mote  I  ryde  or  go, 

And  by  that  Lord  that  clepid  is  seint  Ive, 

Ner  thou  oure  brother,  schuldestow  never  thrive. 

In  oure  chapitre  pray  we  day  and  night 

To  Crist,  that  he  the  sende  hele  and  might 

7511.  Jovynian.  Probably  an  allusion  to  an  emperor  Jovinian,  celebrated 
la  the  (iestu  llonuinnruw  (c.  lix.)  and  in  other  medieval  legends  for  his  pride 
and  luxury.  In  the  tiiieenth  century,  the  story  was  in,  France  worked  into  a 
morality,  under  the  title  L'onjurii  et  prusomfttion  de  I'empereur  Jovinitm. 
It  is  the  same  t*tory  as  that  of  Kobcit,  king  of  Sicily,  in  the  early  Ru£liah  r*- 

QUUiCtt. 


2*24  THE  CANTERBURY 'TALES. 


Thy  body  for  to  welden  hastily." 

"  God  wot,"  quod  he,  "  therof  nought  feele  I,       7530 
As  nelp  me  Crist,  as  I  in  fewe  yeeres 
Have  spendid  upon  many  divers  freres 
Ful  many  a  pound,  yit  fare  I  never  the  bet; 
Certeyn  rny  good  have  I  almost  byset. 
Farwel  my  gold,  for  it  is  almost  ago.'' 
The  frere  answerd,  "  O  Thomas,  dostow  so  ? 
What  needith  vow  dyverse  freres  seche  ? 
What  needith  him  that  hath  a  parfyt  leche 
To  sechen  othir  leches  in  the  toun  ? 

Youre  inconstance  is  youre  confusioun.  7540 

Holde  ye  than  me,  or  elles  oure  covent, 
To  praye  for  yow  insufficient  ? 
Thomas,  that  jape  is  not  worth  a  ruyte  ; 
Youre  malady  is  for  we  have  to  lite. 
A  !  give  that  covent  half  a  quarter  otes  ; 
A  !  give  that  covent  four  and  twenty  grotes  ; 
A  !  give  that  frere  a  peny,  and  let  him  go  ; 
Nay,  nay,  Thomas,  it  may  nought  be  so. 
What  is  a  ferthing  worth  depart  in  tnelve  ? 
Lo,  ech  thing  that  is  ooned  in  himselve  7550 

Is  more  strong  than  whan  it  is  to-skatrid. 
Thomas,  of  me  thou  schalt  not  ben  y-tlatrid, 
Thow  woldist  have  our  labour  al  for  nought. 
The  hihe  God,  that  al  this  world  hath  wrought 
Saith,  that  the  werkman  is  worthy  of  his  hyre. 
Thomas,  nought  of  your  tresor  I  desire 
As  for  myself,  but  for  that  oure  covent 
To  pray  for  yow  is  ay  so  diligent  ; 
And  for  to  buylden  Cristes  holy  chirche. 
Thomas,  if  ye  wil  lerne  for  to  wirche,  7580 

Of  buyldyng  up  on  chirches  may  ye  fynde 
If  it  be  good,  in  Thomas  lyf  of  Ynde. 
Ye  Ij  e  her  ful  of  anger  and  of  ire, 
With  which  the  devel  set  your  hert  on  fuyre, 
And  ohyden  her  the  holy  innocent 
Your  svyf,  that  is  so  meke  and  pacient. 
And  therfor  trow  me,  Thomas,  if  thou  list, 
]Ve  stryve  nought  with  thy  wyf,  as  for  thi  best. 
And  ber  this  word  away  now  by  thy  faith, 
Touchinge  such  thing,  lo,  the  wise  man  saith,  7570 

Withiiine  thin  hous  be  thou  no  lyoun  ; 
To  thy  subjects  do  noon  oppressioun  ; 

7562.  in  Thomas  l>/f  of  Ynile.  I  find  nothing  of  the  sort  hi  the  life  of  St. 
Ihomas.  Perhaps  the  friar  is  made  to  quote  at  random,  reckoning  upon  tk« 
Ignorance  of  hvs  auditor. 


THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE  225 


Ne  make  thyn  acqueyntis  fro  the  fle. 

And  yit,  Thomas,  eftsons  I  charge  the, 

Be  war  for  ire  that  in  thy  bosom  slepith, 

War  for  the  serpent,  that  so  slely  crepith 

Under  the  gras,  and  styngith  prively  ; 

Be  Avar,  my  sone,  and  werk  paeiently, 

For  twenty  thouserid  men  han  lost  her  lyves 

For  stryvyng  with  her  lemmans  and  her  wyvefc.        '58 1* 

Now  syns  ye  hari  so  holy  and  meeke  a  wif, 

What  neditli  yow,  Thomas,  to  make  strif  ? 

Ther  nys  i-wis  no  serpent  so  cruel, 

When  men  trede  on  his  tail,  ne  half  so  fel, 

As  womman  is,  whan  sche  hath  caught  an  ire  ; 

Vengeans  is  thahrie  al  that  thay  desire. 

Schortly  may  no  man,  by  ryni  and  vers, 

Telien  her  thoughtes,  thay  ben  so  dyvers. 

Ire  is  a  sinne,  oon  the  grete  of  sevene, 

Abhominable  to  the  God  of  hevene, 

And  to  himself  it  is  destruccioun. 

This  every  lewed  vicory  or  parsoun  W   1 

Gun  say,  how  ire  engendrith  homicide ; 

Ire  is  in  soth  executour  of  pride. 

I  couthe  of  ire  seyn  so  ruoche  sorwe, 

My  tale  schulde  laste  til  to  morwe. 

Ire  is  the  grate  of  synne,  as  saith  the  wise, 

To  fle  therfro  ech  man  schuld  him  devyse. 

And  therfor  pray  I  God  bothe  day  and  night, 

An  irous  man  God  send  him  litil  might. 

It  is  greet  harm,  and  also  gret  pitie, 

To  set  an  irous  man  in  high  degre. 

"  Whilom  ther  was  an  irous  potestate, 
As  seith  Seriek,  that  duryng  his  estaat  76O 

Upon  a  day  out  riden  knightes  tuo  ; 
And,  as  fortune  wolde  right  as  it  were  so, 
That  oon  of  hem  cam  home,  that  other  nought. 
Anoon  the  knight  bifore  the  juge  is  brought, 
That  sayde  thus,  Thou  hast  thy  felaw  slayn, 
For  which  I  deme  the  to  deth  certayn. 
And  to  anothir  knight  comaundid  he, 
Go,  lede  him  to  the  deth,  i  charge  the. 
And  happed,  as  thay  wente  by  the  weye 
Toward  the  place  ther  he  schulde  deye,  7C10 

7W7.  Schortly,  etc.  This  and  the  following  line  are  not  in  Tyrwhitf? 
>*t. 

7596.  Ire,  etc.    This  line  and  the  following  are  not  in  Tyi  whitt. 

7600.  Senek.  This  story  is  tolil  of  Cornelius  i'iso,  by  Seneca,  de  Ira,  lib.  1 
i.  »vi.  It  is  also  found  in  the  Gesta  lionaiwrum,  where  it  is  told  of  an  en» 
•ort  r  named  Kracliim. 


226  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


The  knight  com,  which  rnen  wend  hadde  be  deed. 

Than  thoughten  thay  it  were  the  beste  reed 

To  lede  hem  bothe  to  the  juge  agayn. 

Thay  sayden,  Lord,  the  knight  hath  not  slayn 

His  felaw  ;  lo,  heer  he  stont  hool  on  ly  ve. 

Ye  schal  be  deed,  quod  he,  so  mote  1  thrive  I 

That  is  to  sayii,  bothe  oon,  tuo,  and  thre. 

And  to  the  firste  knyght  right  thus  spak  he, 

I  deme  the,  thou  most  algate  be  deed. 

Than  thoughte  thay  it  were  the  beste  rede  7830 

To  lede  him  forth  into  a  fair  mede. 

And,  quod  the  juge,  also  thou  most  lese  thin  heed, 

For  thou  art  cause  why  thy  felaw  deyth. 

And  to  the  thridde  felaw  thus  he  seith, 

Thou  hast  nought  doon  that  I  comaun  did  the. 

And  thus  he  let  don  sle  hem  alle  thre. 

Irous  Cambises  was  eek  dronkelewe, 

And  ay  delited  him  to  ben  a  schrewe  ; 

And  so  bifel,  a  lord  of  his  meigne, 

That  loved  vertues,  and  eek  moralite, 

Sayd  on  a  day  bitwix  hem  tuo  right  thus, 

A  lord  is  lost,  if  he  be  vicious  ;  7830 

An  irons  man  is  lik  a  frentik  best, 

In  which  ther  is  of  wisdom  noon  arrest ; 

And  dronkenes  is  eek  a  foul  record 

Of  any  man,  and  naruly  of  a  lord. 

Ther  is  ful  many  an  eyghe  and  many  an  eere 

Awaytand  on  a  lord,  and  he  not  where. 

For  Goddes  love,  drynk  more  attemperelly ; 

Wyn  makith  man  to  lese  wrecchedly 

His  mynde,  and  eek  his  lymes  everichoon. 

The  revers  schal  tow  seen,  quod  he,  anoon. 

And  prove  it  by  thin  owne  experience, 

That  wyn  ne  doth  to  folk  non  such  offence.  7640 

Ther  is  no  wyn  byreveth  me  my  might 

Of  hond,  of  foot,  ne  of  inyn  eyghe  sight 

And  for  despyt  he  dronke  moche  more 

An  hundrid  part  than  he  had  doon  byfore  ; 

And  right  anoon,  this  irous  cursid  wr^cche 

Let  this  knightes  sorie  anoon  biforn  lx;m  fecche, 

Comauridyug  hem  thay  schuld  biforn  him  stonde  ; 

And  sodeiuly  he  took  his  bowe  on  honde, 

7612.  Than  thouyhten,  etc.  I  ret.-vin  this  and  the  'ollcr.ving  line,  bec*Ti« 
they  form  part  of  the  liarl.  .Ms.,  although  they  peetu  to  be  an  unnecessary  in- 
terruption of  the  sense.  They  are  not  in  Tyrwhitt. 

7627.  C'imbises.    See  Seneca,  de  Ira,  lib.  iii.  c.  14. 

7631.  An  irons  mail.     These  two  lines  are  also  peculiar  to  the  Harl.  M». 

7W1.  might.    The  Harl.  .Ms.  reads  wit. 


THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  227 


And  up  the  streng  he  pulled  to  his  eere. 

And  with  an  arwe  lie  slough  the  child  right  there. 

Now  whethir  have  I  a  sikur  hond  or  noon?  7651 

Quod  he,  Is  al  my  inyndo  and  might  agoon  ? 

Hath  wyii  byreyvd  me  myn  eye  sight  ? 

What  schuld  I  telle  the  answer  of  the  knight? 

His  sone  was  slayn,  ther  is  no  more  to  say. 

Be  war  therfor  with  lordes  how  ye  play, 

Byngith  Placebo,  and  I  schal  if  I  can. 

But  if  it  be  unto  a  pore  man  ; 

To  a  pore  man  men  schuld  his  vices  telle, 

But  not  to  a  lord,  they  he  schuld  go  to  helle.  7690 

Lo,  irous  Cirus,  thilke  Percien, 

How  he  destruyed  the  ryver  of  Gysen, 

For  that  an  hors  of  his  was  dreyrit  therinne, 

Whan  that  he  wente  Babiloyne  to  wynne  : 

He  made  that  the  ryver  was  so  sinal, 

That  wommen  mighte  wade  it  over  al. 

Lo,  what  sayde  he,  that  so  wel  teche  can  ? 

Ne  be  no  felaw  to  an  irous  man, 

Ne  with  no  wood  man  walke  by  the  way, 

Lest  the  repent.     I  wol  no  lenger  say.  7670 

Now,  Thomas,  leve  brother,  leve  thin  ire, 

Thow  schalt  me  fynde  as  just  as  is  a  squire  ; 

Thyn  anger  doth  the  al  to  sore  smerte, 

Hald  not  the  develes  knyf  ay  at  thyn  herte, 

But  schewe  to  me  al  thy  confession n." 

"  Nay,"  quod  this  syke  man,  "  by  seynt  Symoun, 
I  have  ben  schriven  this  day  of  my  curate ; 
1  have  him  told  holly  al  myn  estate. 
Nedith  no  more  to  spekeu  of  it,  saith  he, 
But  if  me  list  of  myn  humilite."  7680 

"Gif  me  than  of  thy  good  to  make  our  cloyster," 
Quod  he,  "  for  many  a  muscle  and  many  an  oyster 
Hath  ben  oure  foode,  our  cloyster  to  arreyse, 
Whan  other  men  han  ben  ful  wel  at  eyse  ; 
And  yit,  God  wot,  unnethe  the  foundement 
Parformed  is,  ne  of  oure  pavyment 
Is  nought  a  tyle  yit  withinne  our  wones ; 
By  God,  we  owe  yit  fourty  pound  for  stones. 

7657.  Placebo.  "  The  allusion  is  to  an  Anthem  in  the  Romish  church,  Irom 
P«»lm  CXTI.  y,  which  in  the  Vulgate  stands  thus  :  Placebo  J)omine  in  reyinne 
virorum.  licence  the  complacent  brother  in  the  Marchnnt's  Tale  is  called 
Placebo."  -lyrwhitt. 

7C6'J.  Gysen.  Seneca,  de  Ira,  lib.  iii.  c.  31,  from  whom  ;he  story  is  taken, 
calls  the  river  Gvmies.  Sir  John  Mauudeville  tells  this  story  of  the  Euphrates. 

7674.  ay.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  alway,  which  seems  to  destroy  the  metre. 

76*>7.  a  tyle.  The  pavements  were  made  of  encaustic  tiles,  and  therefor* 
must  have  been  rather  costly. 


2?8  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Now  help,  Thomas,  for  him  that  harewed  helle, 

Or  elles  inoote  we  oure  bookes  selle  ; 

And  gif  yow  lakke  oure  predicacioun, 

Thanne  goth  the  world  al  to  destruccioun 

For  who  so  wold  us  fro  the  world  byreve, 

So  God  me  save,  Thomas,  by  youre  leve, 

He  wolde  byreve  out  of  this  world  the  sonne. 

For  who  can  teche  and  werken  as  we  conne  ? 

And  this  is  not  of  litel  tyme,"  quod  he, 

"  But  siththen  Elye  was  her,  or  Elisee, 

Han  freres  ben,  fynde  I  of  record, 

In  charite,  i-thanked  be  oure  Lord.  7700 

Now,  Thomas,  help  for  saynte  Charite." 

Adoun  he  sette  him  anoon  on  his  kne. 

This  sike  man  wex  welneigh  wood  for  ire, 
He  wolde  that  the  frere  had  ben  on  fuyre 
With  his  fals  dissimulacioun. 
"  Such  thing  as  is  in  my  possessioun," 
Quod  he,  "  that  may  I  geve  yow  and  noon  other  ; 
Ye  sayn  me  thus,  how  that  I  am  your  brother." 
"  Ye  certes,"  quod  the  frere,  "  trusteth  wel  ; 
I  took  our  dame  the  letter,  under  oure  sel."  7710 

"  Now  wel,"  quod  he,  "  and  somwhat  schal  I  give 
Unto  your  holy  covent  whils  that  I  lyve ; 
And  in  thyn  horid  thou  schalt  it  have  anoon, 
On  this  condicioun,  and  other  noon, 
That  thou  depart  it  so,  my  deere  brother, 
That  every  frere  have  as  moche  as  other. 
This  schaltow  swere  on  thy  professioun, 
Withouten  fraude  or  cavillacioun." 
"  I  swere  it,"  quod  this  frere,  "  upon  my  faith." 
And  therwith  his  hond  in  his  he  laith  ;  7720 

"  Lo  here  myn  hond,  in  me  schal  be  no  lak." 
"Now  thanne,  put  thyn  hond  doun  at  my  bak," 
Sayde  this  man,  "  and  grope  wel  byhynde, 
Bynethe  my  buttok,  there  schaltow  fynde 
A  thing,  that  I  have  hud  in  privete." 
"  A  1  "  thought  this  frere,  "  that  schal  go  with  me.'" 
And  doun  his  hond  he  launcheth  to  the  clifte, 
In  hope  for  to  fynde  ther  a  gifte. 

And  whan  this  syke  man  felte  this  frere 
Aboute  his  tuel  grope  ther  and  heere,  7730 

7696.  or  Elitee.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  or  Ele,  an  evident  corruption  by  the 
scribe. 

7710.  the  letter.  It  was  a  common  practice  to  grant  under  the  conventual 
seal  to  benefactors  and  others  a  brotherly  participation  in  the  spiritual  gooa 
works  of  the  convent,  and  iu  tlieir  expected  reward  af",er  death. 


THE  SOMPNOURES  TA^a.  229 


Amyd  his  bond  he  leet  the  freere  a  fart ; 
There  is  no  capul  drawyng  in  a  cart, 
That  might  have  let  a  fart  of  such  a  soun. 
The  frere  upstart,  as  doth  a  wood  iyoun  : 
"A  I  false  cherl,"  quod  he,  "  for  Goddes  bones  I 
This  hastow  in  despit  don  for  the  noones  ; 
Thou  schalt  abye  this  fart,  if  that  I  may." 

His  meyne,  which  that  herd  of  this  affray, 
Com  lepand  in,  and  chased  out  the  frere. 
And  forth  he  goth  with  a  foul  angry  cheere,  7740 

And  fat  his  felaw,  there  lay  his  stoor ; 
He  lokid  as  it  were  a  wylde  boor, 
And  grynte  with  his  teeth,  so  was  he  wroth. 
A  stordy  paas  doun  to  the  court  he  goth, 
Wher  as  ther  woriyd  a  man  of  gret  honour, 
To  whom  that  he  was  alway  confessour  ; 
This  worthy  man  was  lord  of  that  village. 
This  frere  com,  as  he  were  in  a  rage, 
Wher  that  this  lord  sat  etyng  at  his  bord  ; 
Unnethe  might  the  frere  speke  a  word,  7750 

Til  atte  last  he  sayde,  "  God  yow  se !  " 
This  lord  gan  loke,  and  sayde,  Benedicite  ! 
What,  frere  Johan  !  what  maner  world  is  this  ? 
I  se  wel  that  soin  thing  is  amys  ; 
Ye  loke  as  though  the  woode  were  ful  of  thevys. 
Sit  doun  anoon,  and  tel  me  what  your  gref  is, 
And  it  schal  ben  amendit,  if  that  I  may." 

"  I  have,"  quod  he,  "  had  a  despit  to  day, 
God  velde  yow,  adoun  in  youre  vilage, 
That  in  this  world  is  noon  so  pore  a  page,  7760 

That  he  nold  have  abhominacioun 
Of  that  I  have  receyved  in  youre  toun  ; 
And  yet  ne  grevith  me  no  thing  so  sore, 
As  that  this  elde  cherl,  with  lokkes  hore, 
Blasphemed  hath  our  holy  covent  eeke." 
"  Now,  maister,"  quod  this  lord,  "  I  yow  biseke." 

7740.  "  The  remainder  of  this  tale  is  omitted  in  MSS.  B.  G.  and  BrxL  • 
and  instead  of  it  they  give  us  the  following  lame  and  impotent  conclusion 

He  ne  had  noght  ellis  for  his  sermon 

To  part  among  his  brethren  when  he  cam  home- 

And  thus  is  this  tale  idon  : 

For  we  were  almost  att  the  toun. 

I  only  mention  this  to  show  what  liberties  some  copyists  have  taken  with  f-i. 
au/hor."—  TyrwhM. 

7744.  the  court.  The  larger  country-houses  consisted  generally  of  an  en- 
closed court,  from  which  circumstance  this  name  was  usually  given  to  tli« 
manorial  residence,  and  it  has  been  preserved  to  modern  times  ue  a  common 
term  for  gentlemen's  seats. 


230  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  No  maister,  sir,"  quod  he,  "  but  servitour, 

Though  I  have  had  in  scole  such  honour. 

GoJ  likith  not  that  Raby  men  us  calle, 

Neither  in  market,  neyther  in  your  large  halle."    7770 

"  No  fors,"  quod  he,  "  tellith  me  al  your  greef." 

This  frere  sayd,  "  Sire,  an  odious  meschief 

This  day  bytid  is  to  myn  ordre  and  to  me, 

And  so  par  consequ&ns  to  ech  flegre 

Of  Loly  chirche,  God  amend  it  soone  !  " 

"  Sir,"  quod  the  lord,  "  ye  wot  what  is  to  doone  ; 

"Disteinpre  yow  nought,  ye  ben  my  corifessour, 

Ye  ben  the  salt  of  therthe,  and  savyour ; 

For  Goddes  love,  youre  pacience  ye  hokle ; 

Tel  me  your  greef."     And  he  anoon  him  tolde         7780 

As  ye  han  herd  bifore,  ye  wot  wel  what. 

The  lady  of  that  hous  ay  stille  sat, 
Til  sche  had  herd  what  the  frere  sayde. 
"  By,  Goddes  moodir  !  "  quod  she,  "  blisful  niayde  ! 
Is  ther  ought  elles?  tel  me  faithfully." 
"  Madame,"  quod  he,  "  how  thynke  yow  therby  ?  " 
"How  that  me  thynkith  ?  "  quod  sche;  "so  God  me 

speede ! 

I  say,  a  cherl  hath  doon  a  cherles  deede. 
What  schuld  I  say  ?     God  let  him  never  the ! 
His  syke  heed  is  ful  of  vanyte.  7790 

I  hold  him  in  a  maner  frenesye." 
"  Madame,"  quod  he,  "  i-wis  1  schal  not  lye, 
But  I  in  othir  wise  may  be  wreke, 
1  schal  defame  him  over  al  wher  I  speke ; 
The  false  blasfememour,  that  chargid  me 
To  parten  that  wil  not  departed  be, 
To  every  man  y-liche,  with  meschaunce  !  " 

The  lord  sat  stille,  as  he  were  in  a  traunce, 
And  in  his  hert  he  rollid  up  and  doun. 
"How  had  this  cherl  ymaginacioun  780C 

To  schewe  such  a  probleme  to  the  frere? 
Never  eft  er  now  herd  I  of  such  matiere  ; 
I  trowe  the  devel  put  it  in  his  mynde. 
In  arsmetrik  schal  ther  no  man  fynde 
Biforn  this  day  of  such  a  questioun. 
Who  schulde  make  a  demonstracioun, 
That  every  man  schuld  have  alyk  his  part 
As  of  a  soun  or  savour  of  a  fart  ? 
O  nyce  proude  cherl,  I  schrew  his  face  I 
Lo,  sires,"  quod  the  lord,  with  harde  grace,  7810 

7802.  eft.    Some  of  the  lisa,  read  erst. 


THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  231 

14  Who  ever  herde  of  such  a  thing  er  now  ? 

To  every  man  y-like  ?  tel  me  how. 

It  is  impossible,  it  may  not  be. 

Ey,  nyce  cherl,  God  let  him  never  the  1 

The  romblyng  of  a  fart,  and  every  soun, 

Nis  hut  of  aier  reverberaciouri, 

And  ever  it  wastith  lyte  and  lyte  away  ; 

Ther  nys  no  man  can  deme,  by  my  fay, 

if  that  it  were  departed  equally. 

What,  lo,  my  cherl,  what,  lo,  how  schrewedly        7820 

Unto  my  confessour  to  day  he  spak ! 

1  hold  him  certeinly  deruoniak. 

Now  etith  your  mete,  and  let  the  cherl  go  play. 

Let  him  go  honge  himself  on  devel  way  !  " 

Now  stood  the  lordes  squier  at  the  bord, 

That-carf  his  mete,  and  herde  word  by  word 

Of  al  this  thing,  which  that  I  of  have  sayd. 

"  My  lord,"  quod  he,  "  be  ye  nought  evel  payd, 

I  couthe  telle  for  a  gowne-cloth 

To  yow,  sir  frere,  so  that  ye  be  not  wroth,  7830 

How  that  this  fart  even  departed  schuld  be 

Among  your  covent,  if  I  comaunded  be." 

"  Tel,"  quod  the  lord,  "  and  thou  schalt  have  aiioon 

A  goune-cloth,  by  God,  by  seint  Johan  !  " 

"  My  lord,"  quod  he,  "  whan  that  the  wedir  is  fair, 

Withoute  wynd,  or  pertourbyng  of  ayr, 

Let  bring  a  large  whel  into  this  halle, 

But  loke  that  it  have  his  spokes  alle  ; 

Twelf  spokes  hath  a  cart  whel  comunly  ; 

And  bring  me  twelve  freres,  wit  ye  why  ?  7840 

For  threttene  is  a  covent  as  I  gesse  ; 

Yo  IT  noble  confessour,  her  God  him  blesse, 

Scfr  ;J  parfourn  up  the  nombre  of  this  coveut. 

Thanne  schal  thay  knele  doun  by  oon  assent. 

And  to  every  spokes  ende  in  this  manere 

78129.  gjvme-cloth.  In  tlie  middle  ages,  the  most  common  reward*,  and 
ttsn  those  given  by  the  feudal  land-holders  to  their  dependants  and  retain- 
»r»,  were  articles  of  apparel,  especially  the  gown  or  outer  ro!>e.  We  meet 
with  2oiiStant  allusions  to  this  custom  in  the  romances  and  poetry  of  former 
4»T«,  and  they  sometimes  occur  in  historical  writers.  Money  w:t.s  compara- 
tively very  scarce  in  the  middle  ages  ;  and  as  the  household  retainers  were 
lodged  and  fed,  clothing  was  almost  the  only  article  they  wanted. 

7641.  tkrettene.  The  regular  number  of  monks  or  friars  in  a  convent  had 
been  fixed  at  twelve,  with  their  superior  ;  in  imitation,  it  is  said,  of  the  num- 
ber of  twelve  apostles  and  their  divine  master.  The  larger  religious  houses 
were  considered  as  consisting  of  a  certain  number  of  convents.  Thus  Thorn, 
•peaking  of  the  abbot  of  St.  Augustine's  at  Canterbury,  says.  Anno  Domini 
m.  c.  xlvi.  iste  Hugo  reparavit  antiquuin  numcrum  monachorum  istius  mon- 
»"-»rii,  et  erant  Ix.  monacal  professi  prater  abbatem,/wc  est,  quinque  convex 
If  ui  universe. — Decem  Scriptores,  col.  IfcOT. 


232  THk  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ful  sadly  lay  his  nose  schal  a  frere  ; 

Your  noble  confessour  ther,  God  him  save, 

Schal  hold  his  nose  upright  under  the  nave. 

Than  schal  this  churl,  with  bely  stif  arid  tought 

As  eny  tabor,  hider  ben  y-brought ;  788  \ 

And  sette  him  on  the  whele  of  this  cart 

Upon  the  nave,  and  make  him  lete  a  fart, 

And  ye  schul  seen,  up  peril  of  my  lif, 

By  verray  proef  that  is  demonstratif, 

That  equally  the  soun  of  it  wol  wende, 

And  eek  the  stynk,  unto  the  spokes  ende  ; 

Save  that  this  worthy  man,  your  confessour, 

(Bycause  he  is  a  man  of  gret  honour) 

Schal  have  the  flrste  fruyt,  as  resoun  is. 

The  noble  usage  of  freres  is  this,  7860 

The  worthy  men  of  hem  first  schal  be  served. 

And  certeynly  he  hath  it  wel  deserved  ; 

He  hath  to  day  taught  us  so  mochil  good, 

With  preching  in  the  pulpit  ther  he  stood, 

That  I  may  vouchesauf,  I  say  for  me, 

He  hadde  the  firste  smel  of  fartes  thre, 

And  so  wold  al  his  covent  hardily, 

He  berith  him  so  fair  and  holily." 

The  lord,  the  lady,  and  ech  man,  sauf  the  frere, 
Sayde  that  Jankyn  spak  in  this  matiere  7870 

As  wel  as  Euclide,  or  elles  Phtolome. 
Touchand  the  cherl,  thay  sayd  that  subtilte 
And  high  wyt  made  him  speken  as  he  spak  ; 
He  nas  no  fool,  ne  no  demoniak. 
And  Jankyn  hath  i-wonne  a  new  goune ; 
My  tale  is  don,  we  ben  almost  at  toune. 

THE   CLERK  OP  OXENFORDES   PROLOGS. 

"  SIR  Clerk  of  Oxenford,"  our  hoste  sayde 
"Ye  ryde  as  stille  and  coy  as  doth  a  mayde. 
Were  newe  spoused,  sittyng  at  the  bord  ; 
This  day  ne  herd  I  of  your  mouth  a  woid.  7880 

I  trowe  ye  study  aboute  som  sophimc  ; 
But  Salomon  saith,  every  thing  hath  tyme. 
For  Goddis  sake  !  as  beth  of  better  cheere, 
It  is  no  tyme  for  to  stody  hiere. 
Tel  us  som  mery  tale,  by  your  fay  ; 
For  what  man  is  entred  unto  play, 
He  moot  nedes  unto  that  play  assent. 
But  prechith  riot,  as  freres  doon  in  Ldnt. 


THE  CLERK  OF  OXENFORDES  PROLOGS. 


To  make  us  for  our  olde  synnes  wepe, 

Ne  that  thy  tale  make  us  for  to  slepe.  T8VO 

Tel  us  soni  inery  thing  of  aventures. 

Youre  termes,  your  colours,  and  your  figures, 

Keep  hem  in  stoor,  til  so  be  that  ye  endite 

High  style,  as  whan  that  men  to  kynges  write. 

Spekith  so  playn  at  this  tyme,  I  vow  pray, 

That  we  may  understonde  what  ye  say." 

This  worthy  Clerk  benignely  answerde  ; 
"  Sir  host,"  quod  he,  "  I  am  under  your  yerde. 
re  have  of  us  as  now  the  governaunce, 
And  therfor  wol  I  do  vow  obeissaunce.  7900 

Als  fer  as  resoun  askith  hardily. 
I  wil  yow  telle  a  tale,  which  that  I 
Lerned  at  Padowe  of  a  worthy  clerk, 
As  proved  by  his  wordes  and  his  werk. 
He  is  now  deed,  and  nayled  in  his  chest, 
Now  God  give  his  soule  wel  good  rest ! 
Fraunces  Petrark,  the  laureat  poete, 
Ilighte  this  clerk,  whos  rethorique  swate 
Enlumynd  al  Ytail  of  poetrie, 

As  Linian  did  of  philosophic,  7910 

Or  lawue,  or  other  art  particulere  ; 
But  deth,  that  wol  not  sulTre  us  duelleu  heere, 
But  as  it  were  a  twyncling  of  an  ye, 
Hem  bothe  hath  slayn,  and  alle  we  schul  dye. 
But  forth  to  telle  of  this  worthy  man, 
That  taughte  me  this  tale,  as  I  bigan, 
I  say  that  he  first  with  heigh  stile  enditith 
(Er  he  the  body  of  his  tale  writith) 
A  proheme,  in  the  which  descrivith  he 
Piemounde,  and  of  Saluces  the  contra.  7920 

And  spekith  of  Appenyne  the  hulles  hye, 
That  ben  the  boundes  of  al  west  Lombardye  \ 
And  of  mount  Vesulus  in  special, 
Wher  as  the  Poo  out  of  a  welle  smal 
Takith  his  firste  springyng  and  his  sours, 
That  est-ward  ay  encresceth  in  his  cours 
To  p]myl-ward,  to  Ferare.  and  to  Venise, 
To  which  a  long  thing  were  to  devyse. 

7912.  lit  Itth.  Petrarch  died  in  1374.  Linian,  who  was  celebrated  as  • 
lawyer  and  -,  philosopher,  died  about  1378. 

7'J27.  Kmyl-Wdnl.  "One  of  the  regions  of  Italy  wag  called  /Emilia,  from 
the  )'ia  Emilia,  which  crossed  it  from  Flaceiitia  to  Rimini.  Phicentia  stood 
upon  the  Po.  I'itisc.  Lex.  Ant.  Kom.  in  v.  VIA  /EMILIA.  Petrarch's  dt- 
pcriplion  of  this  part  of  the  Pois  a  liitle  different.  He  speaks  of  it  as  dividing 
the  ^Kuiilian  and  Flaminian  regions  from  Venice— Jlmiluim  atquc  flnmin  • 
am  Venetiamque  dincriminans.  But  our  author's  KmclU  if  plainly  taken  frun 
him."—  TyrwhM. 


234  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  trewely,  as  to  my  judgement, 

Me  thinketh  it  a  thing  impertinent,  7930 

Save  that  he  wold  conveyen  his  matiere  ; 

But  this  is  the  tale  which  that  ye  schuln  heere." 

THE  CLERKES  TALE. 

THER  is  at  the  west  ende  of  Ytaile, 
Doun  at  the  root  of  Vesulus  the  colde, 
A  lusty  playn,  abudaunt  of  vitaile, 
Wher  many  a  tour  and  toun  thou  maist  byholde, 
That  foundid  were  in  tyme  of  fadres  olde, 
And  many  anothir  delitable  sight, 
And  Saluces  this  noble  contray  hight. 

A  marquys  whilom  duellid  in  that  loud,  7940 

As  were  his  worthy  eldris  him  bifore, 
And  obeisaunt  ay  redy  to  his  hond, 
Were  alle  his  liegis,  bothe  lesse  and  more. 
Thus  in  delyt  he  lyveth  and  hath  don  yore, 
Biloved  and  drad,  thurgh  favour  of  fortune, 
Bothe  of  his  lordes  and  of  his  comune. 

Therwith  he  was,  as  to  speke  of  lynage, 
The  gentileste  born  of  Lumbardye, 
A  fair  persone,  and  strong,  and  yong  of  age, 
And  ful  of  honour  and  of  curtesie ;  7950 

Discret  y-nough  his  contre  for  to  gye, 
Savynge  in  som  thing  he  was  to  blame  ; 
And  Wautier  was  this  yonge  lordes  name. 

I  blame  him  thus,  that  he  considered  nought 
In  tyme  comyng  what  mighte  bityde, 
But  on  his  lust  present  was  al  his  thought, 
As  for  to  hauke  iuid  hunte  on  every  syde  ; 
Wei  neigh  al  othir  cur°«  let  he  slyde, 
Arid  eek  he  nolde  (that  was  the  worst  of  al) 
Wedde  no  wyf  for  no  thing  that  might  bifal.  7960 

Only  that  poynt  his  poeple  bar  so  sore, 
That  flokmel  on  a  day  to  him  thay  went, 
And  oon  of  hem,  that  wisest  was  of  lore 
(Or  elles  that  the  lord  wolde  best  assent 
That  he  schuld  telle  him  what  his  poeple  ment, 
Or  ellis  couthe  he  schewe  wel  such  matiere), 

The  Clerkis  Tale.  The  popular  story  of  Griseldis.  which  h?.s  appeared  in 
»o  great  a  variety  of  forms  from  the  days  of  Petrarch  almost  to  the  pre.-ont 
time,  is  so  well  known,  that  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  more  than  th;it 
Chaucer  translates  it  closely  from  Petrarch's  Latin  romance  De  obcdicntiu  ti 
fide  uxoria  Mythologia. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  286 


He  to  the  marquys  sayd  as  ye  schuln  hiere. 

"  O  noble  marquys,  youre  humanlte 
Assureth  us  and  giveth  us  hardyriesse, 
As  ofte  as  tyme  is  of  necessite,  7970 

That  we  to  yow  may  telle  oure  hevynesse  ; 
Acceptith,  lord,  now  of  your  gentilesse, 
That  we  with  pitous  hert  unto  yow  playne, 
And  let  youre  eeris  my  vois  not  disieyne. 

"  Arid  have  1  nought  to  doon  in  this  matere 
More  than  another  man  hath  in  this  place, 
Tit  for  as  moche  as  ye,  my  lord  so  deere, 
Han  alway  schewed  me  favour  arid  grace, 
1  dar  the  better  ask  of  yow  a  space 

Of  audience,  to  schewen  oure  request,  7980 

And  ye,  my  lord,  to  doon  right  as  yow  lest. 

"  I  or  certes,  lord,  so  wel  us  likith  yow 
And  al  your  werk,  and  ever  hau  doon,  that  we 
Ne  couthen  not  ourselve  devysen  how 
We  mighte  lyve  more  in  felicite  ; 
Save  oon  thing,  lord,  if  that  your  wille  be, 
That  for  to  be  a  weddid  man  yow  list, 
Than  were  your  pepel  in  sovereign  hertes  rest. 

"  Bowith  your  neck  undir  that  bh'sful  yok 
Of  sovereignete,  nought  of  servise,  7990 

Which  that  men  clepe  spousail  or  wedlok  ; 
And  thenketh,  lord,  among  your  thoughtes  wise, 
How  that  our  dayes  passe  in  soridry  wyse  ; 
For  though  we  sfepe,  or  wake,  or  rome,  or  ryde, 
Ay  fleth  the  tyme,  it  wil  no  man  abyde. 

"  And  though  your  grene  youthe  floure  as  yit, 
In  crepith  age  alway  as  stille  as  stoon, 
And  deth  manasith  every  age,  arid  srnyt 
In  ech  estat,  for  ther  ascapith  noon. 
And  as  certeyn.  as  we  knowe  everychon  HOOO 

That  we  schuln  deye,  as  uncerteyn  we  alle 
Ben  of  that  day  that  deth  schal  on  us  falle. 

"  Acceptith  thaniie  of  us  the  trewe  entent. 
That  never  yit  refusid  youre  hest, 
And  we  wil,  lord,  if  that  ye  wil  assent, 
Chese  yow  a  wyf,  in  schort  tyme  atte  lest, 
Born  of  the  geritilest  and  the  heighest 
Of  al  this  loud,  so  that  it  oughte  seme 
Honour  to  God  arid  yow,  as  we  can  dome. 

7972.  gentlltsst.    The  Harl.  Ms-  reads  necessity,  a  mere  repetitloo  of  At 
conclusion  of  1.  7970. 

7980.  The  reaiting  of  the  Harl.  Ms.  is,  And  audience  toasl;en  oure  requvit. 


236  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Deliver  us  out  of  al  this  busy  drede  8010 

And  tak  a  wyf,  for  hihe  Goddes  sake. 
For  if  it  so  bifel,  as  God  forbede. 
That  thurgh  your  deth  your  lignage  schuld  aslake, 
And  that  a  straunge  successour  schuld  take 
Your  heritage,  O  !  wo  were  us  on  lyve ! 
Wherfor  we  pray  vow  hastily  to  wyve." 

Her  meeke  prayer  and  her  pitous  chere 
Made  the  marquys  for  to  han  pite. 
"  Ye  wolde,"  quod  he,  "  myn  owne  poeple  dee  re, 
To  that  I  never  erst  thought  constreigne  uie.  3020 

I  me  rejoysid  of  my  libert  , 
That  selden  tyme  is  founde  in  mariage  ; 
Ther  I  was  fre,  I  mot  ben  in  servage. 

"  But  natheles  I  se  youre  trewe  entent, 
And  trust  upon  your  witt,  and  have  doon  ay ; 
Wherfor  of  my  fre  wil  I  wil  assent 
To  wedde  me,  as  soon  as  ever  I  may. 
But  ther  as  ye  have  profred  me  to  day 
To  chese  me  a  wyf,  I  wol  relese 
That  choys,  and  pray  yow  of  that  profre  cesse.         8030 

"  For  God  itwoot,  that  childer  ofte  been 
Unlik  her  worthy  eldris  hem  bifore  ; 
Bounte  cometh  al  of  God,  nought  of  the  streen 
Of  which  thay  ben  engendrid  and  i-bore. 
I  trust  in  Goddes  bounte,  and  therfore 
My  mariag-e,  and  myn  estat  arid  rest. 
I  him  by  take,  he  may  doon  as  him  lest. 

"  Let  me  alloon  in  chesyng  of  my  wif, 
That  charge  upon  my  bait  I  wil  endure. 
But  I  yow  pray,  and  charge  upon  your  lyf,  8040 

That  what  wyf  that  I  take,  ye  me  assure 
To  worschip  whil  that  hir  lif  may  endure, 
In  word  and  werk,  bothe  heer  and  every  where, 
As  sche  an  emperoures  doughter  were. 

"  And  forthermor  thus  schul  ye  swer,  that  ye 
Ageins  my  chois  schuln  never  grucche  ne  stryve. 
For  sins  I  schal  forgo  my  liberte 
At  your  request,  as  ever  mot  I  thrive, 
Ther  as  myn  hert  is  set,  ther  wil  I  wyve. 
And  but  ye  wil  assent  in  such  manere,  8059 

I  pray  yow  spek  no  more  of  this  matiere." 

With  hertly  wil  thay  sworen  and  assentyn 
To  al  this  thing,  ther  sayde  no  wight  nay, 
Bysechyng  him  of  grace,  er  that  thay  weiityn, 

8024.  e<!  ywe  trtwe.    The  Ms.  Harl.  roads  se  <>/yow  the  truw*. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  257 

That  be  wold  grauntep  hem  a  certeyn  day 
Of  his  spousail,  as  soone  as  ever  he  may  ; 
For  yit  alway  the  pepie  som  what  dredde 
Lest  that  the  marquys  wolde  no  wyf  vvedde. 

lie  graunted  hem  a  day,  such  as  him  lest, 
On  which  he  wolde  be  weddid  sicurly  ;  8000 

And  sayd  he  dede  al  this  at  her  requeste. 
And  thay  with  humble  liert  ful  buxomly, 
Knelyng  upon  her  knees  ful  reverently, 
Him  thanken  alle,  and  thus  thay  have  an  end* 
Of  her  entent,  and  bom  agein  they  wende. 

And  her  upon  he  to  his  offlceris 
Comaundith  for  the  feste  to  purveye. 
And  to  his  prive  knightes  and  squyeres 
Such^charge  gaf  as  him  list  on  hem  leye : 
And  thay  to  his  comaundement  obeye,  8070 

And  ech  of  hem  doth  his  diligence 
To  doon  unto  the  feste  reverence. 

Pars  secunda. 

Nought  fer  fro  thilke  palys  honurable, 
Wher  as  this  marquys  schop  his  mariage, 
Ther  stood  a  throp,  of  sighte  delitable, 
In  which  that  pore  folk  of  that  vilage 
Hadderi  her  bestes  and  her  herburgage, 
And  after  her  labour  took  her  sustienaunee, 
After  the  erthe  gaf  hem  abundaunce. 

Among  this  pore  folk  ther  duelt  a  man,  8080 

Which  that  was  holden  porest  of  hem  alle ; 
But  heighe  God  som  tyme  sende  can 
His  grace  unto  a  litel  oxe  stalle. 
Janicula  men  of  that  throop  him  calle. 
A  doughter  had  he,  fair  y-nough  to  sight, 
And  (rrisildes  this  yonge  mayden  hight. 

But  for  to  speke  of  hir  vertuous  beaute, 
Than  was  sche  oon  the  fayrest  under  sonne  ; 
For  porely  i-fostred  up  was  sche, 

No  licorous  lust  was  in  hir  body  ronne  ;  8091) 

Wei  ofter  of  the  welle  than  of  the  tonne 
Scbe  dronk,  and  for  sche  wolde  vertu  please, 
Sche  knew  wel  labour,  but  noon  ydel  ease. 

But  though  this  mayden  tender  were  of  age, 
Yet  in  the  brest  of  hir  virginite 

M88.  inayden.    The   Hail.  Ms.  reads  daughter,  which  probably  U  only  M 
loeMeutttl  repetition  of  the  word  in  tL«  preceding  Ivixo. 


238  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Ther  was  enclosed  rype  and  sad  corrage  ; 

And  in  gret  reverence  arid  charite 

Hir  olde  pore  fader  fostred  sche  ; 

A  fewe  scheep  spynnyng  on  the  feld  sche  kept, 

Sche  noid  not  ben  ydel  til  sche  slept.  8100 

And  whan  sche  com  horn  sche  wolde  brynge 
Wortis  and  other  herbis  tymes  ofte. 
The  which  sche  schred  and  seth  for  hir  lyvyng, 
And  made  hir  bed  ful  hard,  and  no  thing  softe. 
And  ay  sche  kept  hir  fadres  lif  on  lofte, 
With  every  obeissance  and  diligence, 
That  child  may  do  to  fadres  reverence. 

Upon  Grisildes,  the  pore  creature, 
Ful  ofte  sithes  thismarquys  set  his  ye, 
As  he  on  huntyng  rood  peraventure.  8110 

And  whan  it  fel  he  mighte  hir  espye, 
He  not  with  wantoun  lokyng  of  folye 
His  eyghen  cast  upon  hir,  but  in  sad  wyse 
Upon  hir  cheer  he  wold  him  oft  a  vise, 

Comendyng  in  his  hert  hir  wommanhede, 
And  eek  hir  vertu,  passyng  any  other  wight 
Of  so  yong  age,  as  wel  in  cheer  as  dede. 
For  though  the  poeple  have  no  gret  insight 
In  vertu,  her  considereth  aright 

Hir  bounte,  and  desposed  that  he  wolde  8120 

Wedde  hir  oonly,  if  ever  he  wedde  scholde. 

The  day  of  weddyng  cam,  but  no  wight  can 
Telle  what  womman  it  schulde  be  ; 
For  which  inervayle  wondrith  many  a  man, 
And  sayden,  whan  thay  were  in  privete, 
"  Wol  nought  our  lord  yit  leve  his  variite  ? 
Wol  he  not  wedde  ?  alias,  alias  the  while  ! 
Why  wol  he  thus  himself  and  us  bigyle  ?  " 

But  natheless  thi*  marquys  hath  doon  make 
Of  gemmes,  set  in  gold  and  in  asure,  8130 

Brookes  and  rynges,  for  Grisildes  sake, 
And  of  hir  clothing  took  he  the  measure, 
By  a  mayde  y-lik  to  hir  of  stature, 
And  eek  of  other  ornamentes  alle 
That  unto  such  a  wcddyhig  schulde  falle. 

The  tyma  of  undern  of  the  same  day 
Approchith,  that  his  weddyng  schulde  be, 
And  al  the  pay  Is  put  was  in  array, 
Bothe  halle  anil  chambur,  y-lik  here  degre, 
Houses  of  office  stuflid  with  plente  ;  8140 

8139,  y-lik  here  riegre.    Other  M8S.  have  ecfie  in  his  degrt,  which  i»  perhaps 
tho  better  reading. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  23(9 


Ther  maystcw  se  of  deyntevous  vitayle, 
That  may  be  founde.  as  fer  as  lastith  Itaile. 

This  real  inarquys,  richely  arrayd, 
Lordes  and  ladyes  in  his  coinpaignye, 
The  which  unto  the  feste  were  prayed, 
And  of  his  retenu  the  bachelerie, 
With  many  a  soun  of  sondry  melodye, 
Unto  the  vilage,  of  which  1  tolde, 
In  this  an  Ay  the  right  way  hari  thay  holde. 

Grysild  of  this  (God  wot)  ful  innocent,  S15C 

That  for  hir  sc.hapeii  was  al  this  array, 
To  fecche  water  at  a  welle  is  went, 
And  cometh  hom  as  soone  as  sche  may, 
For  wel  sche  had  herd  say,  that  ilke  day 
The.  inarquys  schulde  wedde,  and,  if  sche  might, 
Sche  wold  have  seyen  pom  what  of  that  .sight. 

Sche  sayd,  "  1  wol  with  other  maydenes  stonde, 
That  bon  my  felawes,  in  oure  dore,  and  see 
The  marquysesse,  and  therfore  wol  I  fonde 
To  don  at  hom,  as  soone  as  it  may  be,  8160 

The  labour  which  that  longeth  unto  me, 
And  thanne  may  I  at  leysir  hir  byholde, 
And  sche  the  way  into  the  castel  holde." 

And  as  sche  wold  over  the  threisshfold  goon, 
The  inarquys  cam  and  gan  hir  for  to  calle. 
And  sche  set  doun  her  water-pot  anoon 
Bisides  the  threischfold  of  this  oxe  stalle, 
And  doun  upon  hir  knees  sche  gan  falle, 
And  with  sad  countenaunoe  knelith  stille, 
Til  sche  had  herd  what  was  the  lordeswille.  8170 

This  thoughtful  inarquys  spak  unto  this  mayd 
Ful  soberly,  and  sayd  in  this  manere  : 
"  Wher  is  your  fader,  Grisildes?"  he  sayde. 
And  sche  with  reverence  in  humble  cheere 
Answerd,  "  Lord,  he  is  al  redy  heere." 
And  in  sche  goth  withouten  linger  let, 
A.nd  to  the  marquys  sche  hir  fader  fet. 

He  by  the  hond  than  takith  this  olde  mail. 
And  sayde  thus,  whan  he  him  had  on  syde  : 
"  Janicula,  1  neither  may  ne  can 
Lenger  the  plesauns  of  myn  herte  hyde  ; 
If  that  yt  vouchesauf,  what  so  bytydr, 
Thy  doughter  wil  I  take  er  that  I  weudc 
As  for  my  wyf,  unto  hir  lyves  ende. 

"  Thow  lovest  me,  I  wot  it  wel  certeyn, 
And  art  my  faithful  leige-maii  i-bore, 

8143.  richel]/.    The  reaclii.£  of  the  Harl   Ms.  it  realty. 


24*  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  al  that  iikitheme,  I  dar  wel  sayn, 

It  likith  the,  and  specially  therfore 

Tel  ine  that  poynt,  as  ye  have  herd  bifore, 

If  that  them  wolt  unto  that  purpos  drawe,  8190 

To  take  me  as  for  thy  sone-in-lawe." 

The  sodeyn  caas  the  man  astoneyd  tho, 
That  reed  he  wax,  abaischt,  and  al  quakyng 
He  stood,  unriethe  sayd  he  wordes  mo, 
But  oorily  this  :  "  Lord,"  quod  he,  "  my  willy ng 
Is  as  ye  wol,  agenst  youre  likyng 
I  wol  no  thing,  ye  be  my  lord  so  deere  ; 
Right  as  yow  list,  governith  this  matiere." 

"  Yit  wol  I,"  quod  this  markys  softely, 
"  That  in  thy  chambre,  I  arid  thou  and  sche  8200 

Have  a  collacioun,  and  wostow  why  ? 
For  I  wol  aske  if  it  hir  wille  be 
To  be  my  wyf,  and  reule  hir  after  me  ; 
And  al  this  sehal  be  doon  in  thy  presence, 
I  wo?  nought  speke  out  of  thyn  audience." 

And  in  the  chamber,  whil  thay  were  aboute 
The  tretys,  which  as  ye  schul  after  hiere, 
The  poeple  cam  unto  the  hous  withoute, 
And  woridrid  hem,  in  how  honest  manere 
And  tendurly  sche  kept  hir  fader  deere  ;  8210 

But  outerly  Grisildes  wonder  might, 
For  never  erst  ne  saugh  sche  such  a  sight. 

No  wonder  is  though  that  sche  were  astoned, 
To  seen  so  gret  a  gest  come  into  that  place  ; 
Sche  never  was  to  suche  gestes  woned, 
For  which  sche  loked  with  ful  pale  face. 
But  schortly  this  matiere  forth  to  chace, 
These  arn  the  wordes  that  the  rnarquys  sayde 
To  this  benigrie,  verray,  faithful  mayde. 

"  Grisyld,"  he  sayde,  "  ye  schul  wel  understonde, 
It  liketh  to  your  fader  and  to  me,  829 

That  I  yow  wedde,  and  eek  it  may  so  stonde, 
As  I  suppose  ye  wil  that  it  so  be  ; 
But  these  demaundes  aske  I  first,"  quod  he, 
"  That  sith  it  schal  be  doon  in  hasty  wyse, 
Wol  ye  assent,  or  elies  yow  avyse  ? 

"  I  say  this,  be  ye  redy  with  good  hert 
To  al  my  lust,  and  that  I  frely  may 
As  me  best  liste  do  yow  laughe  or  smert, 
And  never  ye  to  gruch  it,  night  ne  day  ;  82*0 

And  eek  whan  I  say  ye,  ye  say  not  nay, 
Neyther  by  word,  ne  frownyng  contenaunce? 
Swer  tin's,  and  here  swer  I  oure  alliaunce." 


THE  VLERKES  TALE.  211 

Wondryng  upon  this  word,  quakyng  for  drede, 
Sohe  sayde  :  "  Lord,  undigne  and  unworthy 
I  am,  to  thilk  honour  that  ye  me  bede  ; 
But  as  ye  wil  your  self,  right  so  wol  I  ; 
And  here  I  swere,  that  never  wityngly 
In  werk,  ne  thought,  I  nyl  yow  disobeye 
For  to  the  deed,  though  me  were  loth  to  deye."       8240 

"  This  is  y-nough,  Grisilde  myn,"  quod  he. 
And  forth  goth  he  with  a  ful  sobre  chere, 
Out  at  the  dore,  and  after  that  cam  sche, 
And  to  the  pepul  he  sayd  in  this  manere  : 
"  This  is  my  wyf,"  quod  lie,  "  that  stondith  heere. 
flonoureth  hir,  and  loveth  hir,  I  yow  pray, 
Who  so  me  loveth  ;  ther  is  no  more  to  say." 

And  for  that  n<   thing  of  hir  olde  gere 
Sche  schulde  brynge  unto  his  hous,  he  bad 
That  wommen  schuld  despoilen  hir  right  there,       8250 
Of  which  these  ladyes  were  nought  ful  glad 
To  handle  hir  clothes  wherin  sche  was  clad  ; 
But  natheles  this  inayde  bright  of  hew 
Fro  foot  to  heed  thay  schredde  nan  al  neAve. 

Hir  heeres  han  thay  kempt,  that  lay  untressed 
Ful  rudely,  and  with  hir  fyngres  smale 
A  coroun  on  hir  heed  thay  han  i-dressed, 
And  set  hir  ful  of  nowches  gret  and  smale. 
Of  hir  array  what  schuld  I  make  a  tale  ? 
Unnethe  the  poeple  hir  knew  for  hir  fairnesse.         8260 
Whan  sche  translated  was  in  such  richesse. 

This  marquis  hath  hir  spoused  with  a  ryng 
Brought  for  the  same  cause,  and  than  hir  sette 
Upon  an  hors  snovv-whyt,  and  wel  amblyng, 
And  to  his  palys,  er  he  lenger  lette, 
(With  joyful  poeple.  that  hir  ladde  and  mett«.'> 
Conveyed  hire,  and  thus  the  day  thay  spendt 
In  revel,  til  the  sonne  gan  descende. 

And  schortly  forth  this  tale  for  to  chace, 
I  say,  that  to  this  riewe  marquisesse  3270 

God  hath  such  favour  sent  hir  of  his  grace, 
That  it  ne  semyd  not  by  liklynesse 
That  sche  was  born  and  fed  in  rudenesse, 
As  in  a  cote,  or  in  an  oxe  stalle, 
But  norischt  in  an  emperoures  halle. 

To  every  wight  sche  waxen  is  so  deere, 
And  worsehipful,  that  folk  ther  Pche  was  born, 
And  from  hir  burthe  knew  hir  yer  by  yere, 
Unneth  trowed  thay,  but  dorst  han  sworn, 
That  to  Janicle.  of  which  I  spak  biforn  8280 

Sche  doughter  were,  for  as  by  conjecture 


242  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Hem  thought  sche  was  another  creature. 

For  though  that  ever  vertuous  was  sche, 
Sche  was  encresed  in  such  excellence 
Of  thewes  goode,  i-set  in  high  bounte, 
And  so  discret,  and  fair  of  eloquence, 
So  benigne,  and  so  digne  of  reverence, 
And  couthe  so  the  poeples  hert  embrace, 
That  ech  hir  loveth  that  Jokith  in  hir  face. 

Nought  oonly  of  Saluce  in  the  touii  3290 

Publissch^d  was  the  bounte  of  hir  name. 
But  eek  byside  in  many  a  regioun, 
If  oon  sayd  wel,  another  sayd  the  same. 
So  sprad  of  hire  heigh  bounte  the  fame, 
That  men  and  wommen,  as  wel  yorig  as  olde, 
Gon  to  Saluce  upon  hir  to  byholde. 

Thus  Walter  louly,  nay  but  really, 
Weddid  with  fortunat  honestete, 
In  Goddes  pees  lyveth  ful  esily 

At  home,  and  outward  grace  y-nough  hath  he  ;      8301 
And  for  he  saugh  that  under  low  degre 
Was  ofte  vertu  y-hid,  the  poeple  him  helde 
A  prudent  man,  and  that  is  seen  ful  selde. 

Nought  oonly  this  Grisildes  thurgh  hir  witte 
Couthe  al  the  feet  of  wifly  homlynesse, 
But  eek  whan  that  the  tyme  required  it, 
The  comun  profyt  couthe  sche  redresse  ; 
Ther  nas  discord,  rancour,  ne  hevynesse 
In  al  that  lond,  that  sche  ne  couthe  appese, 
And  wisly  bryng  hem  alle  in  rest  and  ese.  8310 

Though  that  hir  housbond  absent  were  anoon, 
If  gentilmen,  or  other  of  hir  centre, 
Were  wroth,  sche  wolde  brynge  hem  at  oon, 
So  wyse  and  rype  wordes  hadde  sche, 
And  judgement  of  so  gret  equite, 
That  sehe  from  heven  sent  was,  as  men  Avende, 
Poeple  to  save,  and  every  wrong  to  amende. 

Nought  longe  tyme  after  that  this  Grisilde 
Was  wedded,  sche  a  doughter  hath  i-bore  ; 
Al  had  hir  lever  han  had  a  knave  childe,  $820 

Glad  was  this  marquis  and  the  folk  therfore, 
For  though  a  mayden  child  come  al  byt'ore, 
Sche  may  unto  a  knave  child  atteigne 
By  liklihed,  sith  sche  nys  not  bareigne. 

8005.  homlt/nesse.  The  Jlrxrl.  Ms.  reads  humble  sie ;  but  the  rontext  sho'iri 
v^<it  the  reading  adopted  in  ilie  text  is  tlie  riyhtoiie.  She  not  only  knew  how 
U>  attend  to  the  domestic  affaire  of  her  lord's  household  (willy  honilynesse), 
U-t  \vlwsii  time  or  occasion  required  it,  she  could  ledresi.  the  common  profit 
o*  his  subjects 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  243 


Incipit  tertia  pars. 

Ther  fel,  as  fallith  many  times  mo, 
Whan  that  this  child  hath  souked  but  a  throwe, 
This  marquys  in  his  herte  longith  so 
Tenipte  his  wyf,  hir  sadnesse  for  to  knowe, 
That  he  ne  might  out  of  his  herte  throwe 
This  mervaylous  desir  his  wyf  tassaye  ;  8380 

Nedeles,  God  wot,  he  thought  hir  to  affraye. 

Jle  had  assayed  hir  y-nough  bifore, 
And  fond  hir  ever  good,  what  needith  it 
Hire  to  tempte,  and  alway  more  and  more  ? 
Though  som  men  prayse  it  for  a  subtil  wit, 
But  as  for  me,  I  say  that  evel  it  sit 
Tassay  a  wyf  whan  that  it  is  no  neede, 
And  putte  hir  in  anguysch  and  in  dreede. 

For  which  this  marquis  wrought  in  this  manere  ; 
He  com  aloone  a-night  tlier  as  sche  lay  8340 

With  sterne  face,  and  with  ful  trouble  cheere, 
And  sayde  thus,  "  Grisild,"  quod  he,  "  that  day 
That  I  yow  took  out  of  your  pore  array, 
And  putte  yow  in  estat  of  heigh  noblesse, 
Yet  have  not  that  forgeten,  as  I  gesse. 

"  I  say,  Grisild,  this  present  dignite 
In  which  that  I  have  put  yow,  as  I  trowe, 
Makith  yow  not  forgetful  for  to  be 
That  I  yow  took  in  pore  estat  ful  lowt 
For  euy  wele  ye  moot  your  selve  knowe.  8360 

Tak  heed  of  every  word  that  I  yow  say, 
Pher  is  no  wight  that  herith  it  but  we  tway. 

"  Ye  wot  your  self  how  that  ye  comen  heere 
Into  this  hous,  it  is  nought  long  ago  ; 
And  though  to  me  that  ye  be  leef  and  deere, 
Unto  my  gentils  ye  be  no  thing  so. 
Thay  seyn,  to  hem  it  is  gret  schame  and  wo 
For  to  ben  subject  and  ben  in  servage 
To  the,  that  born  art  of  a  smal  village. 

"  And  namely  syn  thy  doughter  was  i-bore  8360 

Th  ?se  wordes  hail  thay  spoken  douteles. 
Bu    I  desire,  a.s  I  have  doon  byfore, 
To  lyve  my  lif  with  hem  in  rest  and  pees  ; 
I  may  not  in  this  caas  be  reccheles ; 
I  moot  do  with  thy  doughter  for  the  best, 
Not  as  I  wolde,  but  as  my  pepul  lest. 

"  And  yit,  God  wot,  this  is  ful  loth  to  mo. 

•331.  Nedeles.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads,  Now,  God  wot;  but  the  reading  ol 
fee  Lanidowue  M.S.,  here  adopted,  seems  preferable. 


244  THE  CANTERBURY  TALLS. 


But  natheles  withoute  youre  witynge 

Wol  I  not  doon  ;  but  this  wol  I,"  quod  he, 

"  That  ye  to  me  assent  as  in  this  thing.  8370 

Schew  now  your  paciens  in  your  wirching, 

That  thou  me  hightest  and  swor  in  yon  village, 

That  day  that  maked  was  oure  manage." 

Whan  sche  had  herd  al  this  sche  nought  ameevyd 
Neythor  in  word,  in  cheer,  or  counteriaunce, 
(For,  as  it  seined,  sche  was  nought  apreeved); 
Sche  sayde,  "  Lord,  al  lith  in  your  plesaunce; 
My  child  and  I,  with  hertly  obeisaunce, 
Ben  youres  al,  and  ye  may  save  or  spille 
Your  oughne  thing  ;  werkith  after  your  wille.         8380 

':  Ther  may  no  thing,  so  God  my  soule  save, 
Liken  to  yow,  that  may  displesen  me ; 
Ne  I  desire  no  thing  for  to  have, 
Ne  drede  for  to  lese,  save  oonly  ye. 
This  wil  is  in  myn  hert,  and  ay  sehal  be, 

No  length  of  tyrne  or  deth  may  this  deface, 

Ne  chaunge  my  corrage  to  other  place." 
Grlad  was  this  marquis  for  hir  answeryng, 

But  yit  he  feyned  as  he  were  not  so. 

Al  dreery  was  his  cheer  and  his  lokyng,  3390 

Whan  that  he  schold  out  of  the  chambre  go. 

Soon  after  this,  a  forlong  way  or  tuo, 

He  prively  hath  told  al  his  entent 

Unto  a  man,  and  unto  his  wyf  him  sent. 
A  maner  sergeant  was  this  prive  man, 

The  which  that  faithful  oft  he  founden  hadde 

In  thiriges  grete,  and  eek  such  folk  wel  can 

Don  execucioun  in  thinges  badde  ; 

The  lord  knew  wel  that  he  him  loved  and  dradde. 

And  whan  this  sergeant  wist  his  lordes  wille,  8100 

Into  the  chamber  he  stalked  him  ful  stille. 
"  Madame,"  he  sayd,  "  ye  most  forgive  it  me, 

Though  1  do  thing  to  which  I  am  constreynit ; 

Ye  ben  so  wys,  that  ful  wel  knowe  ye, 

That  lordes  hestes  mow  not  ben  i-feynit. 

They  mowe  wel  be  biwaylit  or  compleynit ; 

But  men  moot  neede  unto  her  lust  obeye, 

And  so  wol  I,  there  is  no  more  to  seye. 
"This  child  I  am  comaundid  for  to  take." 

And  spak  no  more,  but  out  the  child  he  hent  8410 

Dispitously,  and  gan  a  chiere  make, 

As  though  he  wold  han  slayn  it,  er  he  went. 

Grisild  moot  al  suffer  and  al  consent ; 

And  as  a  lamb  sche  sitteth  meeke  and  stille 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  245 


And  let  this  cruel  sergeant  doon  his  wille. 

Suspecious  was  the  defame  of  this  man, 
Suspect  his  face,  suspect  his  word  also, 
Suspect  the  tyme  in  which  he  this  bigan. 
Alias  I  hir  doughter,  that  sche  loved  so, 
Sche  wend  he  wold  han  slayen  it  right  tho,  S42C 

But  n-atheles  sche  neyther  weep  ne  siked, 
Conformyng  hir  to  that  the  marquis  liked. 

But  atte  last  speke  sche  bigan, 
And  inekely  sche  to  the  sergeant  preyde, 
So  as  he  was  a  worthy  gentilman, 
That  sche  most  kisse  hir  child,  er  that  it  deyde. 
And  on  hir  arm  this  litel  child  sche  leyde, 
With  ful  sad  fape,  and  gan  the  child  to  blesse, 
And  lullyd  it,  and  after  gan  it  kesse. 

And  thus  sche  sayd  in  hir  benigne  vois  :  9480 

"  Farwel,  my  child,  I  schal  the  never  see, 
But  sith  I  the  have  marked  withe  the  croys, 
Of  thilke  fader  blessed  mot  thou  be, 
That  for  us  deyde  upon  a  cros  of  tre  ; 
Thy  soule,  litel  child,  I  him  bytake, 
For  this  night  schaltow,  deyen  for  my  sake." 

I  trowe  that  to  a  norice  in  this  caas 
It  had  ben  hard  this  rewthe  for  to  see  ; 
Wei  might  a  moder  than  have  cryed  alias, 
But  natheles  so  sad  stedefast  was  sche,  8440 

That  sche  endured  al  adversite, 
And  to  the  sergeant  mekely  sche  sayde, 
"  Have  her  agayn  your  litel  yorige  mayde. 

"Goth  now,"  quod  sche,  "  and  doth  my  lordes  heste. 
But  o  thing  wil  I  pray  yow  of  your  grace, 
That  but  my  lord  forbede  yow  atte  leste, 
Burieth  this  litel  body  in  som  place, 
That  bestes  ne  no  briddes  it  to-race." 
But  he  no  word  wil  to  the  purpos  say, 
But  took  the  child  arid  went  upon  his  way.  8450 

This  sergeant  com  unto  this  lord  agayn, 
And  of  Orrisildes  wordes  and  hir  cheere 
He  tokle  poynt  for  poynt,  in  schorl  and  playn. 
And  him  presentith  with  his  doughter  deere. 
Somwhat  this  lord  hath  rewthe  in  his  manere, 
But  natheles  his  purpos  huld  he  stille, 
As  lordes  doon,  whan  thay  woln  have  her  wille  ; 

8416.  Suspecious.  Tbe  words  of  Petrarch  are:  "  Suspeeta  vira  fania,  iui- 
iM>cta  fades,  suspecta  bora,  suspecta  erat  oratio,  quibus  et  si  clare  occUam 
fri  dulce  tiliaiu  iiitelligeret." 

»127.  arm.    Other  MSS.  read  barme,  the  bosom. 


246  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  bad  the  sergeaunt  that  he  prively 
Schol  Je  this  childe  softe  wynde  and  wrappe, 
With  alle  circumstaunces  tendurly,  8400 

Arid  cary  it  in  a  cofre,  or  in  his  lappe  ; 
Upon  peyne  his  heed  of  for  to  swappe 
That  no  man  schulde  knowe  of  this  entent, 
Ne  whens  he  com,  ne  whider  that  he  went  ; 

But  at  Boloygne,  to  his  suster  deere, 
That  thilke  tyuie  of  Panik  was  countesse 
He  schuld  it  take,  and  schewe  hir  this  matiere, 
Byseching  hir  to  doon  hir  busynesse 
This  child  to  fostre  in  alle  gentilesse, 
And  whos  child  that  it  was  he  bad  hir  hyde  8470 

From  every  wight,  for  ought  that  mighte  bytyde. 

The  sergeant  goth,  and  hath  fulfild  this  thing. 
But  to  this  marquys  now  retourne  we  ; 
For  now  goth  he  ful  fast  ymaginyng, 
If  by  his  wyves  cher  he  mighte  se, 
Or  by  hir  word  apparceyve,  that  sche 
Were  chaunged,  but  he  hir  never  couthe  fynde. 
But  ever  in  oon  y-like  sad  and  kynde. 

As  glad,  as  humble,  as  busy  in  servise 
And  eek  in  love,  as  sche  was  wont  to  be,  8480 

Was  sche  to  him,  in  every  maner  wyse  ; 
Ne  of  hir  doughter  nought  o  word  spak  sche  ; 
Non  accident  for  noon  adversite 
Was  seyn  in  hir,  ne  never  hir  doughter  name 
Ne  nempnyd  sche,  in  ernest  ne  in  game. 

Incipit  quarto,  pars. 

In  this  estaat  ther  passed  ben  foure  yer 
Er  sche  with  childe  was,  but,  as  Grod  wolde. 
A  knave  child  sche  bar  by  this  Waltier, 
Ful  gracious,  and  fair  for  to  biholde  ; 
And  whan  that  folk  it  to  his  fader  tolde,  S490 

Nought  oonly  he,  but  al  his  contre,  merye 
Was  for  this  child,  and  (rod  thay  thank  and  ter'e 

Whan  it  was  tuo  yer  old,  and  fro  the  brest 
Departed  fro  his  noris,  upon  a  day 
This  markys  caughte  yit  another  lest 
To  tempt  his  wif  yit  after,  if  he  may. 
O  !  needles  was  sche  tempted  in  assay. 

8c06.  of  Panik.  "  Quieto  omni  quanta  possit  diligentla  Bononiam  deferret 
ftd  x>rorem  suam,  qu»  illic  coiniti  <le  I'anico  nupta  erat.  eamque  si'ri  trud^ret 
aleinlain  materno  studio  chads  moiibus  instruendaui,"X-'  Tyrwhitt.  rather 
haiitily,  changed  the  name  to  Pavie  in  his  text ;  ana,  although  he  cerrected 
l«im*elf  in  the  notes  which  were  printed  after  the  text,  the  error  has  been 
retained  in  subsequent  editions. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE. 


But  woddid  men  ne  knowen  ro  mesure, 
Whan  that  thay  fynde  a  pacient  creature. 

"  Wyf,"  quod  this  inarquys,  "  ye  han  herd  or  this 
My  peple  sekly  berith  oure  mariage,  8501 

And  namly  syn  my  sone  y-boren  is, 
Now  is  it  wors  than  ever  in  al  our  age  ; 
The  murmur  sleth  myri  hert  and  my  corrage, 
For  to  myn  eeris  cometh  the  vois  so  smerte, 
The :  it  wel  neigh  destroyed  hath  myn  herte. 

"  Now  say  thay  thus,  Whan  Wauter  is  agoon, 
Than  schal  the  blood  of  Janicle  succede, 
And  ben  our  lord,  for  other  have  we  noon. 
Suche  wordes  saith  my  poeple,  out  of  drede.  8510 

Wei  ought  I  of  such  murmur  taken  heede, 
For  certeynly  I  drede  such  sentence, 
Though  thay  not  pleynly  speke  in  my  audienr**- 

"  I  wolde  lyve  in  pees,  if  that  I  might ; 
Wherfor  I  am  disposid  outrely, 
As  I  his  suster  servede  by  night, 
Right  so  thynk  I  to  serve  him  prively. 
This  warn  I  you,  that  ye  not  sodeinly 
Out  of  your  self  for  no  thing  schuld  outraye, 
Beth  pacient,  and  therof  I  yow  pray."  8520 

"  I  have,"  quod  sche,  "  sayd  thus  and  ever  fechal, 
I  wol  no  thing,  ne  nil  no  thing  certayn, 
But  as  yow  list ;  nought  greveth  me  at  al, 
Though  that  my  doughter  and  my  sone  be  slayn 
At  your  comaundement ;  this  is  to  sayne, 
I  have  not  had  no  part  of  children  twayne, 
But  first  syknes,  and  after  wo  and  payne. 

"  Ye  ben  oure  lord,  doth  with  your  owne  thing 
Right  as  yow  list,  axith  no  red  of  me  ; 
For  as  I  left  at  horn  al  my  clothing  8530 

Whan  I  first  com  to  yow,  right  so,"  quod  sche, 
"  Left  I  my  wille  and  my  liberto, 
And  took  your  clothing  ;  wherfor  I  yow  preye, 
Y>oth  youre  plesaunce,  I  wil  youre  lust  obeye. 
1  And  certes,  if  1  hadde  prescience 

var  wil  to  knowe,  er  ye  youre  lust  rue  tolde, 
i  wold  it  doon  withoute  negligence. 
But  now  I  wot  your  lust,  and  what  ye  wolde, 
Al  your  plesaunce  ferm  and  stable  I  holde, 
For  wist  I  that  my  deth  wold  doon  yow  ease,  3£40 

Bight  gladly  wold  I  deye,  yow  to  please. 

"  Deth  may  make  no  coinparisoun 
Unto  your  love."     And  whan  this  marquys  say 
The  constance  of  his  wyf,  he  oast  adouu 


248  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


His  eyghen  tuo,  and  wondrith  that  sche  may 
In  paeience  suffre  as  this  array  ; 
And  forth  he  goth  with  drery  countenaunce, 
But  to  his  hert  it  was  ful  gret  plesaunce. 

This  ugly  sergeaunt  in  the  same  wise 
That  he  hir  doughter  fette,  right  so  he, 
Or  worse,  if  men  worse  can  devyse, 
Hath  hent  hir  sone,  that  ful  was  of  beaute. 
And  ever  in  oon  so  pacient  was  sche, 
That  sche  no  cheere  made  of  hevynesse, 
But  kist  hir  sone,  and  after  gan  him  blesse. 

Save  this  sche  prayed  him,  if  that  he  mighte, 
Hir  litel  sone  he  wold  in  eorthe  grave, 
His  tendre  lymes,  delicate  to  sight, 
From  foules  and  from  bestes  him  to  save. 
But  sche  noon  answer  of  him  inighte  have.  8560 

He  went  his  way,  as  him  no  thing  ne  rought, 
But  to  Boloyne  he  tenderly  it  brought. 

This  marquis  wondreth  ever  the  lenger  the  more 
Upon  hir  paeience,  arid  if  that  he 
Ne  hadde  sothly  knowen  therbifore, 
That  parfytly  hir  children  loved  sche, 
He  wold  have  wend  that  of  som  subtilte 
And  of  malice,  or  of  cruel  corrage, 
That  sche  had  suffred  this  with  sad  visage. 

But  wel  he  knew,  that,  next  himself,  certayn 
Sche  loved  hir  children  best  in  every  wise.  3571 

But  now  of  wommen  wold  I  aske  fayn, 
If  these  assayes  mighten  not  suffice.  ? 
What  couthe  a  stourdy  housebonde  more  devyse 
To  prove  hir  wyfhode  and  heir  stedefastnesse, 
And  he  contynuyng  ever  in  stourdynesse  ? 

But  ther  ben  folk  of  such  condicioun. 
That,  whan  thay  have  a  certeyn  purpos  take, 
Thay  can  nought  stynt  of  her  entencioun, 
But,  right  as  thay  were  bounderi  to  a  stake,  S5SC 

Thay  wil  not  of  her  firste  purpos  slake  ; 
Right  so  this  marquys  fullich  hath  purposed 
To  tempt  his  wyf,  as  he  was  first  disposed. 

He  wayteth,  if  by  word  or  countenaunce 
That  sche  to  him  was  chauriged  of  corage 
But  never  couthe  he  fynde  variaunce, 
Sche  was  ay  oon  in  hert  and  in  visage ; 
And  ay  the  ferther  that  sche  was  in  age, 
The  more  trewe,  if  that  were  possible, 
Sche  was  to  him,  and  more  penyble.  8590 

For  which  it  semyd  this,  that  of  hem  tuo 


THE  CLERKES  TALK.  249 


Ther  nas  but  oo  wil ;  for  as  Walter  lest, 
The  same  plesaunce  was  hir  lust  also  : 
And,  God  be  thanked,  al  fel  for  the  best,. 
Sche  schewed  wel,  for  no  worldly  unrest 
A  wyf..  as  of  hir  self,  no  thing  ne  scholde 
Wylne  in  effect,  but  as  hir  housbond  wolde. 

The  sclaunder  of  Walter  ofte  and  wyde  spradde, 
That  of  a  cruel  hert  he  wikkedly, 

For  he  a  pore  woiniuan  weddid  hadde,  8600 

Hath  rnorthrid  bothe  his  children  prively  ; 
Such  murmur  was  among  hem  comunly. 
No  wonder  is  ;  for  to  the  peples  eere 
Ther  com  no  word,  but  that  thay  mortherid  were. 

For  which,  wher  as  his  peple  therbyfore 
Had  loved  him  wel,  the  sclaunder  of  his  dill'ame 
Made  hem  that  thay  him  hatede  therfore  ; 
To  beri  a  mordrer  is  an  hateful  name. 
But  natheles,  for  ernest  or  for  game, 
He  of  his  cruel  purpos  nolde  sterite,  8610 

To  tempt  his  wyf  was  set  al  his  entente. 

Whan  that  his  doughter  twelf  yer  was  of  age, 
He  to  the  court  of  Rome,  in  suche  wise 
Enformed  of  his  wille,  sent  his  message, 
Comaundyiig  hem,  such  bulles  to  devyse, 
As  to  his  cruel  purpos  may  suffise, 
How  that  the  pope,  as  for  his  peples  reste, 
Bad  him  to  wedde  another,  if  him  leste. 

I  say,  he  bad,  thay  schulde  countrefete 
The  popes  bulles,  makyng  mencioun  8680 

That  he  hath  leve  his  lirste  wyf  to  lete, 
As  by  the  popes  dispensaciouii, 
To  stynte  rancour  and  discencioun 
Bitwix  his  peple  and  him  ;'  thus  sayd  the  bullo, 
The  which  thay  hau  publisshid  atte  fulle. 

The  rude  poepel,  as  it  no  wonder  is, 
Wende  ful  wel  that  it  had  be  right  so. 
But  whan  these  tydynges  come  to  GrisildiSi 
I  deeme  that  hir  herte  was  ful  wo  ; 

But  sche  y-like  sad  for  everino  8030 

Disposid  was,  this  humble  creature 
Thadversite  of  fortun  al  tendure  j 

Abydyng  ever  his  lust  and  his  plesauiice, 
To  whom  that  sche  was  give,  hert  and  al, 
As  to  hir  verray  worldly  suffisaunce. 
But  schortly  if  I  this  story  telle  schal, 
This  marquys  writen  hath  in  special 
A  letter,  in  which  he  schewith  his  entent 


250  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  secrely  he  to  Boloyne  it  sent. 

To  therl  of  Panyk,  which  that  hadde  tho  8640 

Weddid  his  suster,  prayd  he  specially 
To  bryuge  horn  agein  his  children  tuo 
In  honurable  estaat  al  openly. 
But  oon  thing  he  him  prayde  outerly, 
That  he  to  no  wight,  though  men  wold  enquere, 
Schuld  not  tellen  whos  children  thay  were, 

But  say  the  uiayde  schuld  i-wedded  be 
Unto  the  markys  of  Saluce  arioon. 
And  as  this  eorl  was  prayd,  so  dede  he, 
For  at  day  set  he  on  his  way  is  goon  6650 

Toward  Saluce,  and  lordes  many  oon 
In  riche  array,  this  mayden  for  to  guyde, 
Her  yonge  brother  rydyng  by  hir  syde. 

Arrayed  was  toward  hir  manage 
This  freisshe  may  al  ful  of  gemmes  clere  ; 
Hir  brother,  which  that  seven  yer  was  of  age, 
ArraySd  eek  ful  freissh  in  his  manere  ; 
And  thus  in  gret  noblesse  and  with  glad  chere 
Toward  Saluces  schapyng  her  journay, 
Fro  day  to  day  thay  ryden  in  her  way.  8680 

Incipit  pars  quinta. 

Among  al  this,  after  his  wikked  usage, 
This  marquis  yit  his  wif  to  tempte  more 
To  the  uttrest  proef  of  hir  corrage, 
Fully  to  han  experieris  and  lore, 
If  that  sche  were  as  stedefast  as  byfore, 
He  on  a  day  in  open  audience 
Ful  boystrously  hath  sayd  hir  this  sentence  : 

"  Cert.es,  Grisildes,  I  had  y-nough  plesaunce 
To  have  yow  to  my  wif.  for  your  goodnesse, 
And  for  youre  trouthe,  and  for  your  obeissaunce,   9670 
Nought  for  your  lignage,  ne  for  your  richesse; 
But  now  know  I  in  verray  sothfastriesse, 
Ihat  in  gret  lordschip,  if  I  wel  avyse, 
Ther  is  gret  servitude  in  sondry  wyse  ; 

I  may  not  do,  as  every  ploughman  may  j 
My  poeple  me  constreignith  for  to  take 
Another  wyf,  and  cryeu  day  by  day  ; 
And  eek  the  popes  rancour  for  to  slake 
Consentith  it,  that  dar  I  undertake  ; 

8C74.  tervituile.  "Nunc  quoniam,  ut  video,  map;na  omuls  fortuna  servitui 
raagna  e.-<t,  non  inibi  licet  quod  cuilibet  lioeret  agricola:,"  &c.  The  Hurl.  Mi 
-<y»4s  sei-vife.  which  is  iucoiibisteut  with  the  uiet.i •«. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  251 


And  trewely,  thus  inoche  I  wol  yow  say,  8680 

My  newe  wif  is  corny  ng  by  the  way. 

"  Be  strong  of  hert,  and  voyde  anoon  hir  place, 
And  thilke  dower  that  ye  broughten  me 
Tak  it  agayn,  I  grauiit  it  of  my  grace. 
Retourneth  to  your  fadres  hous,"  quod  he, 
"  No  man  may  al way  have  prosperite. 
With  even  hert  I  rede  yow  endure 
The  strok  of  fortune  or  of  adventure." 

And  sche  agayn  answerd  in  pacience  : 
"My  lord,"  quod  sche,  "  I  wot,  and  wist  alway,    9890 
How  that  betwixe  your  magnificence 
And  my  poverte  no  wight  can  ne  may 
Make  comparisoun,  it  is  no  nay  ; 
I  ne  held  me  never  digne  in  no  manere 
To  ben  your  wyf,  ne  yit  your  chamberere. 

"  And  in  this  hous,  ther  ye  me  lady  made, 
(The  highe  God  take  I  for  my  witnesse, 
And  al  so  wisly  he  my  soule  glade) 
1  never  huld  me  lady  ne  niaistresse, 
But  humble  servaunt  to  your  worthinesse,  87  00 

And  ever  schal,  whil  that  my  lyf  may  dure, 
Abcven  every  worldly  creature. 

"  That  ye  so  longe  of  your  benignite 
Han  holden  me  in  honour  and  nobleye, 
Wher  as  I  was  not  worthy  for  to  be, 
That  thonk  I  God  and  yow  to  whom  I  preye 
For-yeld  it  yow,  tner  is  no  more  to  seye. 
Unto  my  fader  gladly  wil  I  wende, 
And  with  him  duelle  unto  my  lyves  ende. 

"  Ther  I  was  fostred  as  a  child  ful  sinal,  8710 

Til  I  be  deed  my  lyf  ther  wil  I  lede. 
A  widow  clene  in  body,  hert,  and  al ; 
For  sith  I  gaf  to  yow  my  maydenhede, 
And  am  your  trewe  wyf,  it  is  no  drede, 
God  schilde  such  a  lordes  wyf  to  take 
Another  man  to  hous  bond  or  to  make. 

' '  And  of  your  newe  wif,  God  of  his  grace 
So  graunte  yow  Avele  and  prosperite  ; 
For  I  wol  gladly  yelden  hir  iny  place, 
In  which  that  1  was  blisful  wont  to  be.  87tO 

For  sith  it  liketh  yow,  my  lord,"  quod  sche, 
"  That  whilom  were  al  myn  hertes  reste, 
That  1  schal  gon,  I  wil  go  whan  yow  leste. 

"  But  ther  as  ye  profre  me  such  dowayre 
As  i  i'erst  brought,  it  is  wel  in  my  mynde, 
It  were  my  wrecchid  clothes    no  tJiitj-j-  faire. 


252  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

The  whiche  to  me  were  hard  now  for  to  fynde. 

0  goode  God  !  how  gentil  and  how  kynde 
Ye  seined  by  your  speche  and  your  visage, 

That  day  that  niaked  was  our  manage  !  8780 

"  But  soth  is  sayd,  algate  I  fynd  it  trewe, 
For  in  effect  it  proved  is  on  me, 
Love  is  nought  old  as  whan  that  it  is  newe. 
But  certes,  lord,  for  noon  adversite 
To  deyen  in  the  caas,  it  schal  not  be 
That  ever  in  word  or  werk  I  schal  repente 
That  I  yow  gaf  myii  hert  in  hoi  entente. 

"  My  lord,  ye  wot  that  in  my  fadres  place 
Ye  dede  me  strippe  out  of  my  pore  wede, 
And  richely  me  cladderi  of  your  grace  ;  8740 

To  yow  brought  I  nought  elles  out  of  drede, 
But  faith,  and  nakednesse,  and  maydenhede ; 
And  her  agayn  my  clothyng  I  restore, 
And  eek  my  weddyng  ryng  for  evermore. 

"  The  remenant  of  your  jewels  redy  be 
Within  your  chambur  dore  dar  1  saufly  sayn. 
Naked  out  of  my  fadres  hous,"  quod  sche, 
"  I  com,  and  naked  moot  I  torne  agayn. 
Al  your  pleisauns  wold  I  fulfille  fayn  ; 
But  yit  I  hope  it  be  not  youre  entent,  8750 

That  I  smocles  out  of  your  paleys  went. 

Ye  couthe  not  doon  so  dishonest  a  thing, 
That  thilke  wombe,  in  which  your  children  leye, 
Schulde  byforn  the  poeple,  in  my  walkyng, 
Be  seye  al  bare  :  wherfor,  I  yow  pray 
Let  me  not  lik  a  worm  go  by  the  way  ; 
Remembre  yow,  myn  oughne  lord  so  deere, 

1  was  your  wyf,  though  I  unworthy  were. 

"  Wherfor,  in  guerdoun  of  my  maydenhede, 
Which  that  I  brought  and  nought  agayn  I  bore      8760 
As  vouchethsauf  to  geve  me  to  my  meede 
But  such  a  smok  as  I  was  wont  to  were, 
That  I  therwith  may  wrye  the  wombe  of  here 
That  was  your  wif  ;  and  here  take  I  my  leve 
Of  yow,  myn  oughne  lord,  lest  I  yow  greve." 

"The  smok,"  quod  he,  "  that  thou  hast  on  thy  bait. 
Let  it  be  stille,  and  ber  it  forth  with  the." 
But  wel  unnethes  thilke  word  he  spak, 
But  went  his  way  for  routhe  and  for  pite. 
Byforn  the  folk  hirselven  strippith  sche,  8770 

8742.  nakednesse.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads,  erroneously,  mektnct.  The 
words  of  Petrarch  are,  "  neque  orunino  alia  mihi  dos  fait,  quam  fides  et 
nuditas." 


THE  CLERKES  TALE. 


And  in  hir  sinok,  with  heed  and  foot  ai  bare, 
Toward  hir  fader  house  forth  is  sche  fare. 

The  folk  hir  folwen  wepyng  in  hir  weye, 
And  fortune  ay  thay  cursen  as  thay  goon  ; 
Bat  sche  fro  wepyng  kept  hir  eyen  dreye, 
Ne  in  this  tyme  word  ne  spak  sche  noon. 
Hir  fader,  that  this  tyding  herd  anoon, 
Cursed  the  day  and  tyme,  that  nature 
Schoop  him  to  ben  a  lyves  creature. 

For  out  of  doute  this  olde  pore  man  9780 

Was  ever  in  suspect  of  hir  mariage  ; 
For  ever  he  deemed,  sith  that  it  bigan, 
That  whan  the  lord  fulfilled  had  his  corrage, 
Him  wolde  think  that  it  were  disparage 
To  his  estate,  so  lowe  for  to  light, 
And-voyden  hire  as  sorie  as  ever  he  might. 

Agayns  his  dough ter  hastily  goth  he  ; 
For  he  by  noyse  cr  folk  knew  hir  comyng  ; 
And  with  hir  olde  cote,  as  it  might  be, 
He  covered  hir  ful  sorwfully  wepynge ;  8790 

But  on  hir  body  might  he  it  nought  bringe, 
For  rude  was  the  cloth,  and  mor  of  age 
By  dayes  fele  than  at  hir  mariage. 

Thus  with  hir  fader  for  a  certeyn  space 
Dwellith  this  flour  of  willy  pacience, 
That  neyther  by  her  wordes  ne  by  hir  face, 
Byforn  the  folk,  nor  eek  in  her  absence, 
Ne  schewed  sche  that  hir  was  doon  offence, 
Ne  of  hir  highe  astaat  no  remeuibraunce 
Ne  hadde  sche,  as  by  hir  countenaunce.  8800 

No  wonder  is,  for  in  hir  gret  estate 
Hir  gost  was  ever  in  playn  humilite  ; 
Ne  tender  mouth,  noon  herte  delicate, 
Ne  pompe,  ne  semblant  of  realte  ; 
But  ful  of  pacient  benignite, 
Discrete,  and  prideles,  ay  honurable, 
And  to  hir  housbond  ever  ineke  and  stable. 

Men  speke  of  Job,  and  most  for  his  humblesse, 
As  clerkes,  whan  hem  lust,  can  wel  endite, 
Namely  of  men,  but  as  in  sothfastnesse,  8810 

Though  clorkes  prayse  wommen  but  a  lite, 
Ther  can  no  man  in  humblesse  him  acquyte 
As  wommen  can,  ne  can  be  half  so  trewe 
As  wommen  ben,  but  it  be  falle  of  mewe. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Pars  sexta. 

Fro  Boloyne  is  this  erl  of  Panik  y-come, 
Of  which  the  fame  up-sprorig  to  more  and  lasee, 
And  to  the  poeples  eeres  alle  and  some 
Was  couth  eek,  that  a  newe  marquisesse 
He  wit.:  him  brought,  in  such  pomp  and  richesse, 
That  never  was  ther  seyn  with  mannes  ye 
80  noble  array  in  al  West  Lombardye. 

The  marquys,  which  that  scnoop  and  knew  al  ttis 
Kr  that  this  erl  was  come,  sent  his  message 
For  thilk  cely  pore  Grisildis  ; 
And  sche  with  humble  hert  and  glad  visage, 
Not  with  no  swollen  hert  in  hir  corrage, 
Cam  at  his  hest,  and  on  hir  knees  hir  sette, 
And  reverently  arid  wyfly  sche  him  grette. 

"  Grisild,"  quod  he,  "  my  wil  is  outrely, 
This  mayden,  that  schal  weddid  be  to  me,  8880 

Receyved  be  to  rnorwe  as  really 
As  it  possible  is  in  myn  hous  to  be  j 
And  eek  that  every  wight  in  his  degre 
Have  his  estaat  in.  sittyng  and  servyse, 
In  high  plesaunce,  as  I  can  devyse. 

"  I  have  no  woiaman  suffisant  certeyne 
The  chambres  for  tarray  in  ordinance 
After  my  lust,  arid  therfor  wold  I  feyne, 
That  thin  were  al  such  maner  governaunce  ; 
Thow  knowest  eek  of  al  my  plesaunce ;  3840 

Though  thyn  array  be  badde,  and  ille  byseye, 
Do  thou  thy  dever  atte  leste  weye." 

"Nought  oonly,  lord,  that  I  am  glad,"  quod  sche, 
"  To  don  your  lust,  but  I  desire  also 
Yow  for  to  serve  and  plese  in  my  degre, 
Withoute  feyntyng,  and  schal  evermo  ; 
Ne  never  for  no  wele,  ne  for  no  wo, 
Ne  schal  the  gost  withinne  myn  herte  stente 
To  love  yow  best  with  al  my  trewe  en  tent." 

And  with  that  word  sche  gari  the  hous  to  dight, 
And  tables  for  to  sette,  and  beddes  make,  8851 

And  peyned  hir  to  doon  al  that  sche  might, 
Preying  the  chamberers  for  Goddes  sake 
To  hasten  hem,  and  faste  swepe  arid  schake, 

Pars  sexta.    In  the  Harl.  Ms.  this  title  of  division  la  omitted,  the  C.erket 
ia  being  arranged  in  five  parts  only. 
stfiK.  glad.     Ms.  JIarl.  reads  qnod. 

XK46.  feyntyng.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  feynyng,  the  t  having  been  prob- 
ly omitted  by  accident.    The  Latin  text  has,  "  neque  iu  b  >c  unquair  fati- 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  255 


And  sche  the  moste  servisable  of  alle 

Hath  every  chamber  arrayed,  and  hi.°  halle. 

Abouten  undern  gan  this  erl  alight, 
That  with  him  brought  these  noble  children  t.weye  ; 
For  which  the  peple  ran  to  se  that  sight 
Of  her  array,  so  richely  biseye.  3SCO 

And  than  at  er.=t  amonges  hem  thay  seye, 
That  Walter  was  no  fool,  though  that  him  lest 
To  chaunge  his  wyf ;  for  it  was  for  the  best. 

For  sche  is  fairer,  as  thay  demen  alle, 
Than  is  Grisild,  and  more  tender  of  age, 
And  fairer  fruyt  bitwen  hem  schulde  falle, 
And  more  plesaunt  for  hir  high  lynage. 
Hir  brother  eek  so  fair  was  of  visage, 
That  hem  to  seen  the  peple  hath  caught  plesaunce, 
Comending  now  the  marquys  govemaunce.  8870 

O  stormy  poeple,  unsad  and  ever  untrewe, 
And  undiscret,  and  chaungyng  as  a  fane, 
Delytyng  ever  in  rombel  that  is  newe, 
For  lik  the  moone  ay  wax  ye  and  wane  ; 
Ay  ful  of  clappyng,  dere  y-nough  a  jane, 
Youre  doom  is  fals,  your  constaunce  yvel  previtii, 
A  ful  gret  fool  is  he  that  on  yow  leevith. 

Thus  sayde  saad  folk  in  that  citee, 
Whan  that  the  poeple  gased  up  and  doun  ; 
For  thay  were  glad  rig^t  for  the  novelte,  8880 

To  have  a  newe  lady  of  her  toun. 
No  more  of  this  now  make  I  mencioun, 
But  to  Grisildes  agayn  wol  I  me  dresse, 
And  telle  hir  Constance,  and  her  busynesse. 

Ful  busy  was  Grisild  in  every  thing, 
That  to  the  feste  was  appertirieiit  ; 
Right  nought  was  sche  abaissht  of  hir  clothing, 
Though  it  were  ruyde,  and  som  del  eek  to-rent, 
But  with  glad  cheer  to  the  gate  is  sche  went, 
With  other  folk,  to  griete  the  marquisesse,  8890 

And  after  that  doth  forth  her  busynesse. 

With  so  glad  chier  his  gestes  sche  recey  veth, 
And  so  connyngly  everich  in  his  degre, 
That  no  defaute  no  man  aparceyveth, 
But  ay  thay  wondren  what  sche  mighte  be. 
That  in  so  pover  array  was  for  to  se, 

8*57.  erl.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  lord;  but  the  reading  here  adopted  frou» 
other  si ss.  is  supported  by  the  words  of  Petrarch  :  "  Proxiuite  lucu  hora  ter- 
tia.  comvg  Bupervenerat." 

8873.  (Ifiytyiiy.  The  reading  of  Ms.  Harl.  is  <l<.'synyn<j,  wUicl  does  no* 
Hcin  to  atloru  to  good  a  sense. 


256  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  couthe  such  honour  and  reverence, 
And  worthily  thay  prayse  liir  prudence. 

In  all  this  mene  while  sche  ne  stent 
This  mayde  and  eek  liir  brother  to  comende  8900 

With  al  hir  hert  in  ful  benigne  entent, 
So  wel,  that  no  man  couthe  hir  pris  amende  ; 
But  atte  last  whan  that  these  lordes  wende 
To  eitte  doun  to  mete,  he  gan  to  calle 
Grisild,  as  sche  Avas  busy  in  his  halle. 

"  Grisyld,"  quod  he,  as  it  were  in  his  play, 
•'  How  likith  the  my  wif  and  hir  beaute  ?" 
"  Right  wel,  my  lord,"  quod  sche,  "  for  in  good  fay, 
A  fairer  saugh  I  never  noon  than  sche. 
I  pray  to  God  give  hir  prosperity  ;  8910 

An  .  so  hope  I,  that  he  wol  to  yow  sende 
Pletaunce  y-riough  unto  your  lyves  ende. 

"  On  thing  warn  I  yow  and  biseke  also, 
That  ye  ne  prike  with  no  tormentynge 
This  tendre  mayden,  as  ye  have  do  mo  ; 
For  sche  is  fostrid  in  hir  norischinge 
More  tendrely,  and  to  my  supposynge 
Sche  couthe  not  adversite  endure, 
As  couthe  a  pore  fostrid  creature." 

And  whan  this  Walter  saugh  hir  pacience,  8920 

Hir  glade  cheer,  and  no  malice  at  al, 
And  he  so  oft  had  doon  to  hir  oft'ence, 
And  sche  ay  sad  and  constant  as  a  wal, 
Continuyng  ever  hir  innocence  over  al, 
This  sturdy  niarquys  gan  his  herte  dresse 
To  reweri  upon  hir  wyily  stedefastnesse. 

"  This  is  y-nough,  Grisilde  myn,"  quod  he, 
"  Be  now  no  more  agast,  ne  yvel  apayed. 
I  have  thy  faith  and  thy  benignite, 
As  wel  as  ever  wommaii  was,  assayed  8980 

In  gret  estate,  and  propreliche  arrayed  ; 
Now  knowe  I,  dere  wyf,  thy  stedefastnesse  ;  " 
And  hir  in  armes  took,  and  gan  hir  kesse. 

And  sche  for  wonder  took  of  it  no  keepe  ; 
Sche  herde  not  what  thing  he  to  hir  sayde, 
Sche  ferd  as  sche  had  stert  out  of  a  sleepe, 
Til  sche  out  of  hir  masidnesse  abrayde. 
"  Grisild,"  quod  he,  "  by  God  that  for  us  deyde, 
Thou  art  my  wyf,  ne  noon  other  1  have, 

8901.  benigne.    The  reading  of  Ms.  Harl.  is  buxom. 

8915.  7/10.  For  me,  to  suit  the  rhyme.  Tyrwhin  has  pointed  «liii  out  at 
OHC  of  Uio  uiotit  remarkable  licenses  that  Oiuucer  has  taken  in  altering  th« 
or'vhogra^liy  oi  a  word  for  this  purpose. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  257 

Ne  never  had,  as  God  my  soule  save.  8940 

"  This  is  my  doughter,  which  thou  hast  supposed 
To  be  my  wif  ;  that  other  faithfully 
Schal  be  inyn  heir,  as  I  have  ay  purposed  ; 
Thow  bar  hem  in  thy  body  trewely. 
At  Boloyne  have  I  kept  hem  prively  ; 
Tak  hem  agayn,  for  now  maistow  not  soye, 
That  thou  hast  lorn  noon  of  thy  ch'Jdren  t  tfeye. 

"  And  folk,  that  other  weyes  han  seyd  of  me, 
I  warn  hem  wel,  that  I  have  doon  this  deede 
For  no  malice,  ne  for  no  cruelte,  395C 

But  for  tassaye  in  the  thy  wommanhede  ; 
And  not  to  slen  my  children,  (God  forbeds  !) 
Bat  for  to  kepe  hem  prively  and  stille, 
Til  I  thy  purpos  knewe  and  al  thy  will." 

Whan  sche  this  herd,  aswoned  doun  sche  fallith 
For  pitous  joy,  and  after  hir  swownyng 
Bche  bothe  hir  yonge  children  to  hir  callith, 
And  in  hir  armes  pitously  wepyng 
Embraseth  hem,  and  tenderly  kissyng, 
Ful  lik  a  moder  with  hir  salte  teris  886G 

Sche  bathis  bothe  hir  visage  and  hir  eeris. 

O,  such  a  pitous  thing  it  was  to  see 
Her  swownyng,  and  hir  humble  vois  to  heere  1 
"  Graunt  mercy,  lord,  God  thank  it  yow,"  quod  scl  b, 
"  That  ye  han  saved  me  my  children  deere. 
Now  rek  1  never  to  be  deed  right  heere, 
Sith  I  stond  in  your  love  and  in  your  grace, 
No  fors  of  deth,  ne  whan  my  spirit  pace. 

"  O  tender  deere  yonge  children  myne, 
Youre  woful  moder  wende  stedefastly,  •  370 

That  cruel  houndes  or  som  foul  vermyne 
Had  eten  yow  ;  but  God  of  his  mercy, 
And  your  beriigne  fader  tenderly 
ilath  doon  yow  kepe."     And  in  that  same  stound* 
Al  sodeinly  sche  swapped  doun  to  grounde. 

And  in  hir  swough  so  sadly  holdith  sche 
Hir  children  tuo,  whan  sche  gan  hem  tembrace, 
That  with  gret  sleight  and  gret  difficulte 
The  children  from  her  arm  they  gonne  arace. 
O  !  many  a  teer  on  many  a  pitous  face 
Doun  ran  of  hem  that  tftoodeii  hir  bisyde, 
Unnethe  aboute  hir  mighte  thay  abyde. 

Waltier  hir  gladith,  and  hir  sorwe  slakith, 

89<w.  In  the  Harl.  Ms.  this  line  stands,  That  t/r.  han  kept  mi/  chkl>vn  M 
decre ;  but  the  reading  given  iu  the  text,  ami  udoptod  by  Tyrwhut,  »  »w  " 
ai«  prefernbla. 


258  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Sche  rysith  up  abaisshed  from  hir  traunce, 
And  every  wight  hir  joy  and  feste  makith, 
Til  sche  hath  caught  agayn  hir  continaunce. 
Wauter  hir  doth  so  faithfully  plesaunce, 
That  it  was  dayrite  for  to  see  the  cheere 
Bit/wix  hem  tuo,  now  thay  be  met  in  feere. 

These  ladys,  whan  that  thay  her  tyme  say,          S99C 
Han  taken  hir,  and  into  chain bre  goon, 
And  strippe  hir  out  of  hir  rude  array, 
And  in  a  cloth  of  gold  that  brighte  schon, 
With  a  coroun  of  many  a  riche  stoon 
Upon  hir  heed,  thay  into  halle  hir  brought ; 
And  ther  sche  was  honoured  as  hir  ought. 

Thus  hath  this  pitous  day  a  blisful  ende  ; 
For  every  man  and  womman  doth  his  might 
This  day  in  mirth  and  revel  to  despende, 
Til  on  the  welken  schon  tne  sterres  bright ;  9000 

For  more  solempne  in  every  mannes  sight 
This  feste  was,  arid  gretter  of  costage, 
Than  was  the  revel  of  hir  mariage. 

Ful  many  a  yer  in  heigh  prosperite 
Lyven  these  tuo  in  concord  and  in  rest, 
And  richeliche  his  doughter  maried  he 
Unto  a  lord,  on  of  the  worthiest 
Of  al  Ytaile,  and  thanne  in  pees  and  rest 
His  wyves  fader  in  his  court  he  kepith, 
Til  that  the  soule  out  of  his  body  crepith.  9010 

His  sone  succedith  in  his  heritage, 
[n  rest  and  pees,  after  his  fader  day  ; 
A.nd  fortunat  was  eek  in  mariage, 
A.1  put  he  not  his  wyf  in  gret  assay. 
This  world  is  not  so  strong,  it  is  no  nay, 
As  it  hath  ben  in  olde  tymes  yore, 
A.nd  herknith,  what  this  auctor  saith  therfore. 

This  story  is  sayd,  not  for  that  wyves  scholde 
Polwe  Grrisild,  as  in  humilite, 
For  it  were  importable,  though  thay  wolde  ; 
But  foi  that  every  wight  in  his  degre 
Schulde  be  constant  in  adveraite, 
As  was  Grisild,  therfore  Peti-ark  writeth 
This  story,  which  with  high  stile  he  enditeth 

For  swich  a  womman  was  so  pacient 


9018.  This    and  the  next   stanza   are    translated    almost  literally  froir 
Petrarch's  Latin. 

9025.  For  sicic/i  a  womman,  etc.— i.  e.  Because  such  a  woman  was  so  patient, 
we  ought  the  more,  &c.    The  Lansd.  Mf».  aud  others  have  fi'orsith  a 
which  may  possibly  be  the  coirect  reading. 


THE  CLERKES  TALE.  259 

Unto  a  mortal  man,  wel  more  us  oughte 

Receyven  al  in  gre  that  God  us  sent. 

For  gret  skil  is  he  prove  that  he  wroughte, 

But  he  ne  temptith  no  man  that  he  boughte, 

As  saith  seint  Jame,  if  ye  his  pistil  rede  ;  9,W 

'  o  provith  folk  al  day,  it  is  no  drede  ; 

And  suffrith  us,  as  for  our  exercise, 
With  scharpe  scourges  of  adversite 
Ful  ofte  to  be  bete  in  sondry  wise  ; 
Nought  for  to  knowe  oure  wille,  for  certes  he, 
Er  we  were  born,  knew  al  our  frelte  ; 
And  for  oure  best  is  al  his  governaunce  ; 
Leet  us  thanne  lyve  in  vertuous  suffraunce. 

But  oo  word,  lordes,  herkneth  er  I  go  : 
It  were  ful  hard  to  fynde  now  a  dayes  9040 

As  Grisildes  in  al  a  toun  thre  or  tuo  ; 
For  if  that  thay  were  put  to  such  assayes, 
The  gold  of  hem  hath  now  so  badde  alayes 
With  bras,  that  though  the  coyn  be  fair  at  ye, 
It  wolde  rather  brest  in  tuo  than  plye. 

For  which  heer,  for  the  wyves  love  of  Bathe, — 
Whos  lyf  and  alle  of  hir  secte  God  meyntene 
In  high  maistry,  and  elles  were  it  scathe, — 
I  wil  with  lusty  herte  freisch  and  grene, 
Say  yow  a  song  to  glade  yow,  I  wene  ;  9050 

And  lat  us  stynt  of  ernestful  matiere, 
ierknith  my  song,  that  saith  in  this  manere. 

L'envoye  de  Chaucer. 

Grisild  is  deed,  and  eek  hir  pacience, 
And  bothe  at  oones  buried  in  Itayle ; 
For  whiche  I  crye  in  open  audience, 
No  weddid  man  so  hardy  be  to  assayle 
His  wyves  pacience,  in  hope  to  fynde 
Grrisildes,  for  in  certeyn  he  schal  fayle. 

O  noble  wyves,  ful  of  heigh  pruden  se, 
Let  noon  humilite  your  tonges  nayle  \  9060 

Ne  lat  no  clerk  have  cause  or  diligence 
To  write  of  yow  a  story  of  such  mervayle, 
As  of  Grisildes  pacient  and  kynde, 
Lest  Chichivache  yow  swolwe  in  hir  entraile. 

»<)4.  Chichivafhc.  According  to  a  popular  fable,  which  seems  to  have 
K»-k  W  origin  in  France,  the  chichcvache  or  chi<:lit(face.  was  a  monster  which 
luoiionly  on  good  wt\  \en,  a:id  which  was  said  to  be  always  thin  and  meagre 
on  account  of  tho  erViv  ^ie  rarity  of  this  article  of  food.  M.  Achille  Jubinal, 
in  the  notes  to  his  Myi\  ^.rtg  inetlits  du  xc  si&c/e,  tom.  i.  p.  ;!'ip,  has  printed  a 
Frencn  poetical  descir^  liou  of  this  animal  from  a  manuscript  of  the  fojr 


260  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Folwith  ecco,  that  holdith  no  silence, 
But  ever  answereth  at  the  countretayle  ; 
Beth  nought  bydaffed  for  your  innocence, 
But  scharply  tak  on  vow  the  governayle  ; 
Einpryntith  wel  this  lessoun  on  your  mynde, 
For  comun  profyt,  sith  it  may  avayle.  9070 

Ye  archewyves,  stondith  at  defens, 
Sjn  ye  ben  strong,  as  is  a  greet  chamayle, 
Ne  suffre  not,  that  men  yow  don  offens. 
Arid  sclendre  wyves,  felle  as  in  batayle, 
Beth  egre  as  is  a  tyger  yond  in  Inde  ; 
Ay  clappith  as  a  mylle,  I  yow  counsaile. 

JSe  drede  hem  not,  do  hem  no  reverence, 
For  though  thin  housbond  armed  be  in  mayle, 
The  arwes  of  thy  crabbid  eloquence 
Schal  perse  his  brest,  and  eek  his  adventayle ;         908G 
In  gelousy  I  rede  eek  thou  him  bynde, 
And  thou  schalt  make  him  couche  as  doth  a  quayle. 

If  thou  be  fair,  ther  folk  ben  in  presence 
Schew  thou  thy  visage  and  thin  apparaile  ; 
If  thou  be  foul,  be  fre  of  thy  despense, 
To  gete  the  frendes  do  ay  thy  travayle  ; 
Be  ay  of  chier  as  light  as  lef  on  lynde, 
And  let  hem  care  and  wepe,  and  wryng  and  wayls. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALK. 

"  WEPYNG  and  wailyng,  care  and  other  sorwe 
I  knowe  y-nough,  bothe  on  even  and  on  morwe,"  9090 

teeiith  century.  In  the  French  miracle  of  St.  Genevieve,  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury (Jubiual,  ib.  p.  281),  a  man  says  satirically  to  the  saint, 

Gardez-vous  de  la  chicheface, 

El  VOUB  mordra  s'el  vous  encontre, 

Vous  n'amendez  point  sa  besoigne. 

I  am  not  aware  of  any  allusion  to  this  fable  in  England  before  Chaucer  ;  but 
our  countrymen  carried  the  satire  still  further,  and  added  another  beast 
suined  Bycorn,  who  lived  upon  good  and  patient  husbands,  and  who  was  aB 
fat  as  the  other  was  lean,  on  account  of  the  abundance  of  his  favorite  food. 
A  poem  by  Lydgate  on  "Bycorne  and  Chichevache,"  is  printed  in  Mr.  Halli- 
well'g  Minor  1'oems  r>f  Dan  John  Lytlgate,  p.  129.  A  large  wood <r  it,  printed 
in  a  broadside  of  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  and  preserved  in  a  collection  ol 
broadsides,  &c.,  in  the  library  of  the  Society  of  Antiquarians,  gives  a  repre- 
sentation of  these  two  monsters. 

9074.  wyves.    The  reading  of  the  I-Tarl.  Ms.  is  wydewes 

The  Prologs.  This  prologue  is  omitted  in  some  MSS.,  and  in  others  a  dif- 
ferent prologue  is  given,  and  the  Clerkes  Tale  is  in  some  followed  by  the 
Frankeleiu's  Tale.  The  prologue  and  arrangement  of  the  Harl.  Ms.  are. 
however,  evidently  the  genuine  ones.  Tyrwhltt  quotes  from  other  MSS.  tn» 
following  concluding  stanza  to  the  tiivoye  : 


THE  MARCHAVNDES  TALE,  261 


Quod  the  marchaund,  "  and  so  doon  other  mo, 

That  weddid  ben  ;  1  trowe  that  it  be  so, 

For  wel  I  woot  it  fareth  so  with  me. 

I  have  a  wyf,  the  worste  that  may  be, 

For  though  the  feend  to  hir  y-coupled  were, 

Sche  wold  him  overmacche  I  dar  wel  swere. 

What  schuld  I  yow  reherse  in  special 

Hir  high  malice  ?  sche  is  a  schrewe  at  al. 

Ther  is  a  long  arid  a  large  difference 

Betwix  Grisildes  grete  pacience,  91  Of 

And  of  my  wyf  the  passyng  cruelte. 

Were  I  unbounden,  al  so  mot  I  the, 

I  wolde  never  eft  come  in  the  snare. 

We  weddid  men  lyve  in  sorwe  and  care, 

Assay  it  who  so  wil,  and  he  schal  fynde 

That  I  say  soth,  by  seint  Thomas  of  Inde, 

As  for  the  more  part,  I  say  not  alle  ; 

God  schilde  that  it  scholde  so  byfalle. 

A  !  good  sir  host,  I  have  y-weddid  be 

Thise  monethes  tuo,  and  more  not,  parde  ;  9110 

And  yit  I  trowe  that  he,  that  al  his  lyve 

Wyfles  hath  ben,  though  that  men  wold  him  rive 

Unto  the  hert,  ne  couthe  in  no  manere 

Tellen  so  moche  sorwe,  as  I  now  heere 

Couthe  telle  of  my  wyfes  cursednesse." 

"Now,"  quod  our    ost,    "  Marchaunt,  so  God  yow 

blesse ! 

Sin  ye  so  moche  knowen  of  that  art, 
Ful  hertily  tellith  us  a  part." 
'  Gladly,"  quod  he,  "  but  of  myn  oughne  sore 
For  sory  hert  I  telle  may  na  more."  9120 

THE   MARCHAUNDES   TALE. 

WHILOM  ther  was  dwellyng  inLombardy 
A  worthy  knight,  that  born  was  of  Pavy, 

This  worthy  clerk  whan  ended  was  his  tale, 

Our  hoste  gaide  and  swore  by  cockes  bones, 

Me  were  lever  than  a  barrel  of  ale 

My  wif  at  home  had  herd  this  legend  ones ; 

This  is  a  gentil  tale  for  the  nones, 

AB  to  my  purpos,  wiste  ye  my  wille, 

But  thing  that  wol  not  be,  let  it  be  stills. 

The  .\farchaundes  Tale.  The  French  fabliau,  from  which  this  tale  war  DO 
doubt  translated,  is  not  now  known  to  exist ;  but  the  subject  has  been  pro- 
served  in  Latin  in  the  metrical  tales  of  Adolf  us,  printed  in  my  Latin  Stories 
p-  174,  of  which  collection  it  forms  the  first  tale.  It  is  told  also  in  a  Latin 
prose  tale  given  in  mv  Latin  Stories,  p.  78,  from  the  Appendix  to  the  edition* 
»»f  Msop's  Fables  printed  In  the  fifteenth  century. 


262  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

In  which  he  lyved  in  gret  prosperite  ; 

And  fourty  yer  a  wifles  man  was  he, 

And  folwed  ay  his  bodily  delyt 

On  wommen,  ther  as  was  his  appetyt, 

As  doon  these  fooles  that  ben  seculere. 

And  whan  that  he  was  passed  sixty  yere, 

Were  it  for  holyness  or  for  dotage, 

I  can  not  say,  but  such  a  gret  con-age  5130 

Hadde  this  knight  to  ben  a  weddid  man, 

That  day  and  night  he  doth  al  that  he  can 

Taspye  wher  that  he  mighte  weddid  be  ; 

Praying  our  lord  to  graunte  him,  that  he 

Might  oones  knowen  of  that  blisful  lif 

That  is  bitwix  an  housbond  and  his  wyf, 

And  for  to  lyve  under  that  holy  bond 

With  which  God  first  man  to  womman  bond. 

"  Noon  other  lif,"  sayd  he,  "  is  worth  a  bene  ; 

For  wedlok  is  so  holy  and  so  clene,  9140 

That  in  this  world  it  is  a  paradis." 

Thus  sayd  this  olde  knight,  that  was  so  wys. 

And  certeinly,  as  soth  as  God  is  king, 

To  take  a  wyf  is  a  glorious  thing, 

And  namely  whan  a  man  is  old  and  hoor, 

Than  is  a  wyf  the  fruyt  of  his  tresor  j 

Than  schuld  he  take  a  yong  wif  and  a  fair, 

On  which  he  might  engendre  him  an  hair, 

And  lede  his  lyf  in  mirthe  and  solace, 

Wheras  these  bachileres  synge  alias,  9150 

Whan  that  thay  fynde  eny  adversite 

In  love,  which  is  but  childes  vanite. 

And  trewely  it  sit  wel  to  be  so, 

That  bachilers  have  ofte  peyne  and  wo  ; 

On  brutil  ground  thay  bulde,  and  brutelnesse 

Thay  fynde,  whan  thay  wene  sikernesse  ; 

Thay  lyve  but  as  a  brid  other  as  a  best, 

In  liberte  and  under  noon  arrest ; 

Ther  as  a  weddid  man,  in  his  estate, 

Lyvith  his  lif  busily  and  ordinate,  ?-  W 

Under  the  yok  of  mariage  i-bounde  ; 

9128..  sixty.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  here,  as  in  1. 9124,  fourty.  Ty  t  whitt  reads 
(n  both  places  sixty.  The  Lansdowne  Ms.  has  xl  in  the  first  place,  and  Ix  in 
the  second,  which  numbers  I  have  thought  it  safest  to  adopt :  the  transposi- 


•he  ordinary  period  of  marriage,  or  about  his  twenuetn  year.  J  ne  reaumg  01 
Ms.  Harl.,  in  1.  9128,  is  totally  incompatible  with  the  old  age  and  impolency 
under  which  January  is  described  as  laboring. 

9160.  busily.    The  Ms.  Lansdowne  has  blisful,  which  is  the  reading  adopted 
by  Tyrwhitt. 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  268 

Wei  may  his  herte  in  joye  and  blisse  abouude. 

For  who  can  be  so  buxoni  as  a  wyf  ? 

Who  is  so  trewe  and  eek  so  ententyf 

To  kepe  him,  seek  and  hooL  as  is  bis  make  ? 

For  wele  or  woo  sche  wol  him  not  forsake. 

Sob-1  is  not  wery  him  to  love  and  serve, 

Theigh  that  he  lay  bedred  til  that  he  sterve. 

And  yet  som  clerkes  seyn  it  is  not  so, 

Of  which  Theofrast  is  oon  of  tho.  9170 

What  fors  though  Theofrast  liste  lye  ? 

Ne  take  no  wif,  quod  he,  for  housbondrye, 

As  for  to  spare  in  houshold  thy  dispense  ; 

A  trewe  servaunt  doth  more  diligence 

Thy  good  to  kepe,  than  thin  oughne  wif, 

For  sche  wol  clayme  half  part  in  al  hir  lif. 

AndJf  that  thou  be  seek,  so  God  me  save, 

Thyne  verray  frendes  or  a  trewe  knave 

Wol  kepe  the  bet  than  sche  that  waytith  ay 

After  thy  good,  and  hath  doon  many  a  day.  9180 

And  if  that  thou  take  a  wif,  be  war 

Of  oon  peril,  which  declare  I  ne  dar. 

This  entent,  and  an  hundrid  sithe  wors, 
Writith  this  man,  ther  God  his  bones  cur?. 

9172.  Ne  take  no  wif.  "  What  follows  to  ver.  9180  incl.  is  taken  from  th« 
Liber  aureolus  Theophrasti  de  nuptiis,aa  quoted  by  Hieronymcs  coiitraJovin- 
ianum,  and  from  thence  by  John  of  Salisbury,  Polycrat.  1.  viii.  c.  xi.  Quwl 
it  propter  dispensationem  domus,et  languoris  solatia,  tt  fuyam  solitudinig, 
ducuntur  uxores,  multo  melius  dlspeiisat  servus  Jitltlis,  &c.  Assidere  autem 
vgrotanti  magis  possunt  amid  et  venndce  benejiciis  obiiyati  quam  ilia  qucf 
nobis  imputet  lachrymas  suus,"  etc. —  Tyrwhitt. 

9181.  And  if  that.  This  and  the  following  line  are  not  in  the  text  of  Tyr- 
whitt,  who  observes  oil  this  passage, — •'  After  this  verse  in  the  common  e<litt. 
»re  these  two  : 

And  if  thou  take  to  the  a  wife  untrue, 

Ful  oftentime  it  shall  the  sore  rew." 

In  Mss.  A.  C.  and  B.  a.  they  stand  thus  : 

And  if  thou  take  a  wif,  be  wel  y war 

Of  on  {jj£lg  which  I  declare  ne  dare. 
U  MSB.  C.  1.  HA.  D.  thus  : 


And  if  thou  take  a  wif  of  heye  lynage, 
She  shal  be  hauteyn  of  gret  costage. 


IT  Mr  B.  i.  thus  : 

And  if  thou  take  a  wif  in  thin  age  olde, 
Ful  lightly  niayst  thou  be  a  cokewold. 

In  Mss.  Ask.  1.  2.  E.  H.  B.  #.  N.  c,  and  both  Caxton's  editt.  they  arc  entirely 
omitted,  and  so  1  believe  they  should  be.  If  any  one  of  these  souplc-ts  <hould 
b«  allowed  to  be  from  the  band  of  Chaucer,  it  can  only  be  considered  as  tha 
opening  of  a  new  argument,  which  the  author,  for  some  reason  or  other,  in> 
mediately  abandoned,  and  couaequently  would  have  cancelled,  if  ho  had  lived 
to  publish  bis  work." 


264  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


But  take  no  keep  of  al  such  vanite  ; 

Deify  Theofrast,  and  herkne  me. 

A  wyf  is  Goddes  gifte  verrayly ; 

Al  other  maner  giftes  hardily, 

As  landes,  rentes,  pasture,  or  coinune, 

Or  other  inoeblis,  ben  giftes  of  fortune, 

That  passen  as  a  schadow  on  a  wal. 

But  dred  not,  if  I  playnly  telle  schal,  9100 

A  wyf  wil  last  and  in  thin  hous  endure, 

Wei  lenger  than  the  lust  peradventure. 

Mariage  is  a  ful  gret  sacrament ; 

He  which  hath  no  wif  I  hold  him  schent ; 

He  lyveth  helples,  and  is  al  desolate 

(I  speke  of  folk  in  seculer  estate). 

And  herken  why,  I  say  not  this  for  nought, 

That  womman  is  for  mannes  help  i-wrought. 

The  heighe  God,  whan  he  had  Adam  maked, 

And  saugh  him  al  aloone  body  naked,  9200 

God  of  his  grete  goodnes  sayde  thanne, 

Let  us  now  make  an  helpe  to  this  rnanne 

Lyk  to  himself ;  and  than  he  made  Eve. 

Her  may  ye  see,  and  here  may  ye  preve, 

That  wyf  is  mannes  help  and  his  comfort, 

His  paradis  terrestre  and  his  desport. 

So  buxom  and  so  vertuous  is  sche, 

Thay  mosten  neede  lyve  in  unite  ; 

O  fleisch  thay  ben,  and  on  blood,  as  I  gesse, 

Have  but  oon  hert  in  wele  and  in  distresse.  9210 

A  wyf  ?  a  !  seinte  Mary,  benedicite, 
How  might  a  man  have  eny  adversite 
That  hath  a  wyf  ?  certes  I  can  not  say. 
The  joye  that  is  betwixen  hem  tway 
Ther  may  no  tonge  telle  or  herte  think. 
If  he  be  pore,  sche  helpith  him  to  swynk  ; 
Sche  kepith  his  good,  and  wastith  never  a  del, 
And  al  that  her  housbond  list,  sehe  likith  it  wel ; 
Sche  saith  nought  oones  nay,  whan  he  saith  ye  ; 
Do  this,  saith  he  ;  al  recly,  sir,  saith  sche.  922C 

O  blisful  ordre,  o  wedlok  precious  ! 
Thou  art  so  mery,  and  eek  so  vertuous, 
And  so  comendid,  and  approved  eek, 
That  every  man  that  holt  him  worth  a  leek, 
Upon  his  bare  knees  ought  al  his  lyf 

9200.  lif)dy  naked.  Tjrwhitt  reads  from  other  uss.  belly  naked,  which  wa» 
the  ordinary  plirase  for  entirely  naked.  M.s.  Laiisd.  has  oly  naked,  which  ii 
probably  a  mere  error  for  belly  naked. 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  265 


Thanken  his  God,  that  him  hath  sent  a  wif. 

Or  pray  to  God  oon  him  for  to  sende 

To  be  with  him  unto  his  lyves  ende. 

For  than  his  lyf  is  set  in  sikernesse  ; 

He  may  not  be  deceyved,  as  I  gesse,  9280 

So  that  lie  worche  after  his  wyfes  red  ; 

Than  may  he  boldely  bere  up  his  heed, 

Thay  ben  so  trewe,  and  also  so  wyse. 

For  whiehe,  if  them  \volt  do  as  the  wyse, 

Do  alway  so,  as  womnian  wol  the  rede. 

Lo  how  that  Jacob,  as  the  clerkes  rede, 

J3y  good  counseil  of  his  moder  Rebecke, 

Band  the  kydes  skyn  about  his  nekke  ; 

For  which  his  fader  benesoun  he  wan. 

Lo  Judith,  as  the  story  telle  can,  9240 

By  wys  counseil  sche  Goddes  poepel  kept, 

And  slough  him  Oliphernus  whil  he  slept. 

Lo  Abygaille,  by  good  counseil  how  sche 
Savyd  hir  housbond  Nabal,  whan  that  he 
Schold  lian  ben  slayn.     And  loke.  Hester  also 
By  good  counseil  delivered  out  of  wo 
The  poeple  of  God,  and  made  him  Mardoche 
Of  Assuere  enhaunsed  for  to  be. 
Ther  nys  no  thing  in  gre  superiatif 

(As  saith  Senec)  above  an  humble  wyf.  9250 

Sufl're  thy  wyves  tonge,  as  Catoun  byt, 
Sche  schal  comaunde,  and  thou  schalt  suffre  it. 
And  yit  sche  wil  obeye  of  curtesye. 

A  wif  is  keper  of  thin  housbondrye  : 
Wei  may  the  sike  man  wayle  and  wepe, 
Ther  as  ther  is  no  wyf  the  hous  to  kepe. 
I  warrie  the,  if  wisly  thou  wilt  wirche, 
Love  wel  thy  wyf,  as  Crist -loveth  his  chirche  ; 
If  thou  lovest  thiself,  thou  lovest  thy  wyf. 


9244.  Nabal.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  A'acab,  which  appears  to  be  a  mere 
wror  of  the  scribe. 

9i!l5.  Hester.  The  liar!.  Ms.  and  some  others  read  after  also,  an  evident 
MTor  ot"  the  scribes.  In  1.  9'J47  the  Harl.  Ms.  reads  corruptly  Mandoche.  The 
pi oper  names  are  often  corrupted  in  this  manner  by  the  ignorance  or  caro- 
iossness  of  scribes,  in  manuscripts  of  early  English  poetry. 

'J250.  As  scit/i  /v'Nrc.  The  passage  of  Seneca  alluded  to  was  written  in  the 
margin  of  one  of  the  M 38.  consulted  by  Tyrwhitt :  "  Sicut  niliil  est  superiu* 
benigna  cov.juge,  ita  nihil  est  crudelius  infesta  muliere." 

ifc!51.  as  Cai,>uu  hi/t.  The  allu:?iun  is  to  the  popular  treatise  entiUed  Cato 
de  Moriius,  lib.  iii.  distich  '25  : 

"  Uxoris  linguam,  pi  frugi  est,  ferre  memento." 

9258.  Love  wtl.  <£c.    The  allusion  is  to  Paul's  Epist.  to  the  Kphetium,  TT 
25,  28,  29  :  viri  ddigil?  uxores  vestras,  sicut  et  Chrintus  diluxit  ecclesiarn  .   . 
<Jui  -luirn  uxoreia  diligit,  seipsiuu  diligit .     Nemo  euiui  ui.quain  c&ruoiu  auaa 
otliu  hnbuit  :  sod  iiutrit  el  fuvcl  eaiu. 


266  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

No  man  hatith  his  fleissch,  but  in  his  lif  9286 

He  fostrith  it,  and  therfore  warne  I  the 

Cherissh  thy  wyf,  or  thou  schalt  never  the. 

Honsbond  and  wif,  what  so  men  jape  or  pleye, 

Of  worldly  folk  holden  the  righte  weye  ; 

Tbay  ben  so  knyt,  ther  may  noon  harm  bytyde, 

And  nameliche  upon  the  wyves  syde. 

For  which  this  January,  of  which  I  tolde, 

Considered  hath  inwith  his  dayes  olde 

The  lasty  lif,  the  vertuous  quiete, 

Thaf  is  in  mariage  honey-swete.  92"! 

And  for  his  frendes  on  a  day  he  sent 

To  tellen  hem  theffect  of  his  entent. 

With  face  sad,  he  hath  hem  this  tale  told  ; 

He  sayde,  "  Prendes,  I  am  hoor  and  old, 

And  almost  (God  woot)  at  my  pittes  brinke, 

Upon  my  soule  soin  what  most  I  thynke. 

I  have  my  body  folily  dispendid, 

Blessed  be  God  that  it  schal  be  amendid  ; 

For  I  wil  be  certeyn  a  weddid  man, 

And  that  anoori  in  al  the  hast  I  can,  9280 

Unto  som  mayde,  fair  and  tender  of  age. 

I  pray  yow  helpith  for  my  mariage 

Al  sodeynly,  for  I  wil  not  abyde ; 

And  I  wil  fonde  tespien  on  my  syde, 

To  whom  I  may  be  weddid  hastily. 

But  for  als  moche  as  ye  ben  ino  than  I, 

Ye  schul  rather  such  a  thing  aspien 

Than  I,  and  wher  me  lust  beste  to  allk-n. 

But  oo  thing  warne  I  yow,  my  frendes  deere, 

I  wol  noon  old  wyf  have  in  no  inanere  ;  9290 

Sche  schal  not  passe  sixtene  yer  certayn. 

Old  fisch  and  yong  fleisch,  that  wold  I  have  ful  fayn. 

Bet  is,"  quod  he,  "  a  pyk  than  a  pikerell, 

And  bet  than  olde  boef  is  the  tendre  vel. 

I  wil  no  worn  man  twenty  yer  of  age, 

It  nys  but  bene-straw  and  gret  forage. 

And  eek  these  olde  wydewes  (God  it  woot) 

Tliay  can  so  moche  craft  of  Wades  boot, 

So  moche  broken  harm  whan  that  hem  list, 

That  with  hem  schuld  I  never  lyveii  in  rest.  9300 

5*298.  of  Wades  boot.  The  popular  legend  of  Wadee'  boat,  though  well 
known  in  the  sixteenth  century,  is  now  unfortunately  lost,  so  that  we  cannot 
lully  understand  the  force  of  Chaucer's  allusion.  Wade  was  one  of  the 
Ueioes  of  the  northern  mythology,  and  like  so  many  of  the  same  class,  be- 
came subsequently  the  hero  of  a  medieval  romance  of  the  same  school  as  the 
romances  of  Horn  and  Havelok.  M.  Fr.  .Michel  has  collected  together  nearly 
all  the  passage*  of  old  writer*  that  can  now  be  found,  in  which  he  is  men 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  2«7 


For  sondry  scolis  niaken  subtil  clerkes  ; 

Womman  of  many  a  scole  half  a  clerk  is. 

But  certeyn,  a  yong  thing  may  men  gye, 

Right  as  men  may  warm  wax  with  homles  plye. 

Wherfor  1  say  vow  plenerly  in  a  clause, 

1  wil  noon  old  wyf  han  right  for  that  cause. 

For  if  so  were  1  hadde  so  meschaunce, 

That  I  in  hir  ne  couthe  have  no  plesaunce, 

Than  schuld  I  lede  my  lyf  in  advoutrie, 

And  go  streight  to  the  devel  whan  I  dye.  9310 

Ne  children  schuld  I  noou  upon  hir  geten  ; 

Yet  w^re  me  lever  houndes  had  me  eten, 

Than  that  myn  heritage  schulde  falle 

In  straunge  hond  ;  and  thus  I  telle  yow  alle. 

1  donte  not,  I  wot  the  cause  why 

Men  scholde  wedde  ;  and  forthermor  woot  I, 

Ther  spekith  many  man  of  mariage, 

That  wot  uomore  of  it  than  wot  my  page 

For  whiche  causes  man  schuld  take  a  wyf. 

If  he  ne  may  not  chast  be  by  his  lif,  9320 

Take  him  a  wif  with  gret  devociouu, 

Bycause  of  lawful  procreacioun 

Of  children,  to  thoiiour  of  God  above, 

And  not  oonly  for  paramour  and  for  love  ; 

And  for  thay  schulde  leccherye  eschiewe, 

And  yeld  oure  dettes  whan  that  it  is  due  ; 

Or  for  that  ilk  man  schulde  helpen  other 

In  meschief ,  as  a  suster  schal  the  brother, 

And  lyve  in  chastite  ful  holily. 

But,  sires,  by  your  leve,  that  am  riot  I,  9330 

For  God  be  thanked,  I  dar  make  avaunt, 

I  fele  my  leiuys  stark  and  suffisaurit 

To  doon  al  that  a  man  bilongeth  unto; 

1  wot  my  selve  best  what  I  may  do. 

"  Though  I  be  hoor,  I  fare  as  doth  a  tree, 
That  blossemith  er  that  the  fruyt  i-waxe  be  ; 
A  blossemy  tre  is  neither  drye  ne  deed  ; 
I  fele  me  no  wher  hoor  but  on  myn  heed. 
Myn  herte  and  al  my  lymes  ben  as  greerie, 
As  laurer  thurgh  the  yeer  is  for  to  seene.  9340 

tiorvod,  in  an  essay  in  French,  xur  fade.  The  medieval  romance  appears  'x» 
Lave  related  a  long  series  of  wild  adventures  which  Wade  encountered  in  hit 
boat,  named  Guingelot  ;  and  these  adventures  seem  to  be  cited  in  the  teit  af 
examples  of  craft  and  cunning  :  in  another  passage  of  Chaucer,  Troilus,  lib. 
kii.  1.  CIS,  they  ure  spoken  of  as  exumplcs  of  romantic  or  idle  tales, — 

"  He  8onge,  she  ployede,  he  tolde  a  tale  of  Wade  " 
«02.  tcote.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  skiie. 


268  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  synnes  ye  ban  herd  al  myn  entent, 
I  pray  yow  to  my  wille  ye  assent." 

Diverse  men  diversly  him  tolde 
Of  mariage  many  ensamples  olde  ; 
Some  blamed  it,  some  praised  it  certayn  ; 
But  atte  laste,  schortly  for  to  sayn, 
(As  alday  fallith  altercacioun, 
Bitwixe  frendes  in  dispitesoun) 
Ther  fel  a  strif  bitwen  his  bretheren  tuo, 
Of  which  that  oon  was  clepid  Placebo,  9850 

Justinus  sothly  cleped  was  that  other. 
Placebo  sayde  :  "  O  January,  brother, 
Ful  litel  need  had  ye,  my  lord  so  deere, 
Counseil  to  axe  of  eny  that  is  heere  ; 
But  that  ye  ben  so  ful  of  sapience, 
That  yow  ne  likith  for  your  heigh  prudence 
To  wayve  fro  the  word  of  Salamon. 
This  word,  said  he,  unto  us  everychoon  : 
Werk  al  thing  by  counsail,  thus  sayd  he, 
And  thanne  schaltow  nought  repente  the.  9360 

But  though  that  Salamon  speke  such  a  word, 
Myn  owne  deere  brother  and  my  lord, 
So  wisly  God  bring  my  soule  at  rest, 
I  holde  your  oughne  counseil  is  the  best. 
For,  brother  myn,  of  me  tak  this  motif, 
I  have  now  ben  a  court-man  al  my  lyf, 
And  God  wot,  though  that  I  unworthy  be, 
I  have  standen  in  ful  gret  degre 
Abouten  lordes  in  ful  high  estat ; 

Yit  had  I  never  with  noon  of  hem  debaat  9370 

I  never  hem  contraried  trewely. 
I  wot  wel  that  my  lord  can  more  than  I ; 
What  that  he  saith,  I  hold  it  ferm  and  stable, 
I  say  the  same,  or  elles  thing  seinblable. 
A  ful  gret  fool  is  eny  counselour, 
That  servith  any  lord  of  high  honour, 
That  dar  presume,  or  oones  thenken  it, 
That  his  counseil  schuld  passe  his  lordes  wit. 
Nay,  lordes  ben  no  fooles  by  my  fay. 
Ye  have  your  self  y-spoken  heer  to  day  9380 

So  heigh  sentens,  so  holly,  and  so  wel, 
That  I  coiisente,  and  conferme  every  del 
Your  wordes  alle,  and  youre  oppiuioun. 
By  God,  ther  is  no  man  in  al  this  toun 

93C3.  at  rest.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  at  ese  and  rest,  which  makes  the  lin« 
too  long.  The  word  fie  had  probably  crept  in  ag  a  glos*  upon  rett,  or  a§  i 
rariouB  reading. 


THE  MARCHAVNDES  TALE.  269 


Ne  in  Ttaile,  couthe  better  have  sayd  ; 

Crist  holdith  him  of  this  ful  wel  apayd. 

And  trewely  it  is  an  heigh  corrage 

Of  any  man  that  stopen  is  in  age, 

To  take  a  yong  wyf,  by  my  fader  kyn  ; 

Your  herte  hongith  on  a  joly  pyn.  939C 

Doth  now  in  this  matier  right  as  yow  lest, 

For  fyiially  I  hold  it  for  the  best." 

Justinus,  that  ay  stille  sat  and  herde, 

Right  in  this  -wise  he  to  Placebo  answerde. 

"  Now,  brother  myn,  be  pacient  I  yow  pray, 

Syns  ye  have  sayd,  and  herknith  what  1  say  : 

Senek  aiuonges  other  wordes  wyse 

Saith,  that  a  man  aught  him  wel  avyse, 

To  whom  he  giveth  his  lond  or  his  catel. 

And  syns  I  aught  avyse  me  right  wel,  9400 

To  whom  I  give  my  good  away  fro  me, 

Wel  more  I  aught  a  vised  for  to  be 

To  whom  I  give  my  body ;  for  alwey 

I  warn  yow  wel  it  is  no  childes  pley 

To  take  a  wyf  withoute  aviseinent. 

Men  most  enquere  (this  is  myn  assent) 

Wher  sche  be  wys,  or  sobre,  or  dronkelewe, 

Or  proud,  or  eny  other  way  a  schrewe, 

A  chyder,  or  a  wastour  of  thy  good, 

Or  riche  or  pore,  or  elles   man  is  wood.  'J410 

Al  be  it  so,  that  no  man  fynde  schal 

Noon  in  this  world,  that  trottith  hool  in  al, 

Neyther  man,  ne  best,  such  us  men  can  devyse, 

But  natheles  it  aught  y-nough  suffise 

With  any  wyf,  if  so  were  that  sche  hadde 

Mo  goode  thewes  than  hir  vices  badde  ; 

And  al  this  askith  leyser  to  enquere. 

For  God  woot,  I  have  weped  many  a  tere 

Fill  prively,  syns  I  have  had  a  wyf. 

Prayse  who  so  wil  a  weddid  mannes  lif,  942f 

Certes  I  fynd  in  it  but  cost  arid  care, 

And  observaunce  of  alle  blisses  bare. 

And  yit,  God  woot,  myn  neighebours  aboute. 

And  namely  of  womuien  many  a  route, 

Sayn  that  1  have  the  nioste  stedefast  wyf, 

And  eek  the  meekest  oon  that  berith  lyf. 

But  1  woot  best,  wlier  wryngith  me  my  scho. 

Ye  may  for  me  right  as  yow  liste  do. 

Avysith  yow,  ye  ben  a  man  of  age, 


1/7.  mti  tcho.    See  before  the  uot«  on  1.  6074 


27U  THE  CANTERBUltX   TALKS. 


How  that  ye  entern  into  mariage  ;  9430 

And  namly  with  a  yong  wif  and  a  fair. 

By  him  that  made  water,  eorthe,  and  air, 

The  yongest  man,  that  is  in  al  this  route, 

Is  busy  y-nough  to  bring  it  wel  aboute 

To  have  his  wif  alloone,  trustith  me  ; 

Ye  schul  not  please  hir  fully  yeres  thre, 

This  is  to  say,  to  doon  hir  ful  plesaunce 

A  wyf  axith  ful  many  an  observaunce. 

I  praj  yow  that  ye  be  riot  evel  apayd." 

"Wel,"  quod  this  January,  "  and  hastow  sayd  ?    6440 

Straw  for  thy  Senec,  and  for  thy  proverbis  ! 

1  counte  nought  a  panyer  ful  of  herbes 

Of  scole  termes  ;  wiser  men  than  thow, 

As  I  have  sayd,  assenten  her  right  now 

Unto  my  purpose  :  Placebo,  what  say  ye  ?  " 

"  I  say  it  is  a  cursed  man,"  quod  he, 

"  That  lettith  matrimoigne  sicurly." 

And  with  that  word  thay  rysen  up  sodeinly, 

And  ben  assented  fully,  that  he  scholde 

Be  weddid  whan  him  lust,  and  wher  he  wolde.       9450 

The  fantasy  and  the  curious  busynesse 
Pro  day  to  day  gan  in  the  soule  impresse 
Of  January  aboute  his  mariage. 
Many  a  fair  schap,  and  many  a  fair  visage, 
Ther  passith  thorugh  his  herte  night  by  night. 
As  who  so  took  a  mirrour  polissched  bright, 
And  set  it  in  a  comun  market  place, 
Than  schuld  he  se  many  a  figure  pace 
By  his  mirrour ;  and  in  the  same  wise 
Gan  January  in  his  thought  devyse  9460 

Of  maydeus,  which  that  dwellid  him  bisyde  ; 
He  wist  not  where  that  he  might  abyde. 
For  though  that  oon  have  beaute  in  hir  face, 
Another  stant  so  in  the  poeples  grace 
For  hir  sadness  and  hir  benignite, 
That  of  the  poeple  grettest  vois  hath  sche  ; 
And  soin  were  riche  arid  hadde  badde  name 
But  nathele^,  bitwix  erriest  and  game, 
He  atte  last  appoyntecl  him  an  oon, 
And  let  al  other  fro  his  herte  goon, 
And  ches  hir  of  his  oughne  auctorite, 
For  love  is  blynd  al  day,  and  may  not  se. 
And  whan  he  was  into  bedde  brought, 
He  purtrayed  in  his  hert  and  in  his  thought 
Her  freische  beaute,  and  hi.  age  tendre, 
Hir  mvddel  smal,  hir  armea  *ong  and  sclendre, 


THE  MARCKAUNDES  TALE.  271 


Hir  wise  governaunce,  hir  gentilesse. 
Hir  wommanly  beryrig,  arid  hir  sadnesse. 

And  whan  that  he  on  hir  was  condescendid, 
Eiiin  thought  his  chois  uiighte  nought  be  amendid  ; 
For  whan  that  he  himself  concludid  hadde,  9481 

Him  thought  ech  other  mannes  witte  so  badde, 
That  impossible  it  were  to  repplio 
Agayn  his  choys  ;  this  was  his  fantasie. 
His  frendes  sent  he  to,  at  his  instaunce, 
And  prayed  hem  to  doon  him  that  plesaunce, 
That  hastily  thay  wolde  to  him  come  ; 
He  wold  abrigge  her  labour  alle  and  some. 
Nedith  no  more  for  him  to  gon  ne  ryde, 
He  was  appoynted  ther  he  wold  abyde.  9490 

Plapebo  cam,  and  eek  his  frendes  soorie, 
And  althirfirst  he  bad  hem  alle  a  boone, 
That  noon  of  hem  noon  argumentis  make 
Agayn  the  purpos  which  that  he  had  take  ; 
Which  purpos  was  plesaunt  to  God,  sayd  he, 
And  verray  ground  of  his  prosperite. 

He  sayd,  ther  was  a  maydeii  in  that  toun, 
Which  that  of  beaute  hadde  gret  renoun, 
Al  were  it  so,  sche  were  of  smal  clegre, 
Suffisith  him  hir  youthe  and  hir  beaute  ;  9500 

Which  mayde,  he  sayd,  he  wold  have  to  his  wyf, 
To  lede  in  ease  and  holinesse  his  lyf ; 
And  thanked  God,  that  he  might  have  hir  al, 
That  no  wight  with  his  blisse  parten  schal ; 
And  prayed  hem  to  laboure  in  this  neede, 
And  schapen  that  he  faile  not  to  speede. 
For  than,  he  sayd,  his  spirit  was  at  ease ; 
"Than  is,"  quod  he,  "  no  thing  may  me  displease, 
Save  oon  thing  prikkith  in  my  conscience, 
The  which  I  wil  reherse  in  your  presence.  951ft 

I  have  herd  sayd,"  quod  he,  "  ful  yore  ago, 
Ther  may  no  man  have  parfyt  blisses  tuo, 
This  is  to  say,  in  erthe  and  eek  in  hevene. 
For  though  he  kepe  him  fro  the  synnes  sevene, 
And  eek  from  ylk  a  braunche  of  thilke  tre, 
Yit  is  ther  so  parfyt  felicite 
And  so  gret  ease  and  lust  in  manage, 

94fe2.  witte.  This  la  the  reading  of  Lausd.  Ms.  The  Ilarl.  Ms.  reads  wyj 
which  appears  to  be  incorrect. 

9500.  youthe.  This  reading  also  is  adopted  from  the  LanBdowne  Ms.,  aj 
being  apparently  better  than  th.it  of  tlie  Harl.  Ms-,  which  lias  trouth. 

9515.  brnunche*  The  popular  medieval  treatises  on  the  seven  sins  arrange 
t!i«  minor  tranagreBsions  connected  \\  uh  each  &a  branches  of  the  primar) 
tr»e. 


272  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  ever  I  am  agast  now  in  myn  age, 

That  I  schal  lede  now  so  mery  a  lyf, 

So  delicat,  withoute  wo  and  stryf,  9540 

That  I  fichat  have  myn  heven  in  erthe  heere. 

For  sith  that  verrey  heveri  is  bought  so  deere 

With  tribulacioun  and  gret  penaunee, 

How  schuld  I  thanne,  that  live  in  such  plesauuce 

As  alle  weddid  men  doon  with  her  wyves, 

Come  to  blisse  ther  Crist  eterne  on  ly  ve  is  ? 

This  is  my  drede,  and  ye,  my  bretheren  tweye, 

Assoilith  me  this  questioun,  I  yow  preye." 

Justinus,  which  that  hated  his  folye, 
Answerd  anoon  right  in  his  japerie  ;  9580 

And  for  he  wold  his  longe  tale  abrigge, 
He  \volde  noon  auctorite  alegge, 
But  sayde,  "  Sir,  so  ther  be  noon  obstacle 
Other  than  this,  God  of  his  high  miracle, 
And  of  his  mercy  may  so  for  yow  wirche. 
That  er  ye  have  your  rightes  of  holy  chirche, 
Ye  may  repente  of  weddid  mannes  lyf, 
In  which  ye  sayii  ther  is  no  wo  ne  stryf ; 
And  ellis  God  forbede,  but  he  sente 
A  weddid  man  grace  him  to  repente  9540 

Wei  ofte,  rather  than  a  sengle  man. 
And  therfor,  sire,  the  beste  reed  I  can, 
Dispaire  yow  nought,  but  have  in  youre  memorie, 
Peradventure  sche  may  be  your  purgatorie  ; 
Sche  may  be  Goddes  mene  arid  Goddes  whippe  ; 
Than  schal  your  soule  up  to  heven  skippe 
Swyfter  than  doth  an  arwe  out  of  a  bowe. 
I  hope  to  God  herafter  ye  shuln  knowe, 
That  ther  nys  noon  so  gret  felicite 

In  manage,  ne  nevermor  schal  be,  9550 

That  yow  schal  lette  of  your  savacioun, 
So  that  ye  use,  as  skile  is  arid  resoun, 
The  lustes  of  your  wyf  attemperely, 
And  that  ye  please  hir  not  to  amorously ; 
And  that  ye  kepe  yow  eek  from  other  synne. 
My  tale  is  doori,  for  my  witt  is  thynne. 
Beth  not  agast  herof,  my  brother  deere, 
But  lot  us  waden  out  of  this  matiere. 
The  wif  of  Bathe,  if  ye  hari  understonde, 
Of  mariage,  which  ye  hail  now  in  honde,  95tO 

Declared  hath  f ul  wel  in  litel  space ; 
Fareth  now  well,  God  have  yow  in  his  grace." 

And  with  that  word  this  Justinus  and  his  brother 
Han  take  her  leve,  and  *ch  of  hem  of  other. 


THL  MARCH AUNDES  TALE.         273 

And  whan  thay  saugh  that  it  most  needis  be, 
Thay  wroughten  so  by  sleight  and  wys  trete, 
That  sche  this  mayden,  which  that  Mayhus  hight, 
As  hastily  as  ever  that  sche  might, 
Schal  weddid  be  unto  this  Januarie. 
I  trowe  it  were  to  longe  yow  to  tarie,  9578 

If  I  yow  tolde  of  every  scrit  and  bond, 
By  which  that  sche  was  feofl'ed  in  his  lond ; 
Or  for  to  herken  of  hir  riche  array. 
But  finally  y-comen  is  that  day, 
That  to  the  chirche  bothe  ben  thay  went, 
For  to  receyve  the  holy  sacrament. 
Forth  comth  the  preost,  with  stoole  about  his  nocke, 
And  bad  hir  be  lik  Sarra  and  Rebecke 
In  wisdom  and  in  trouth  of  manage  ; 
And  sayd  his  orisouns,  as  is  usage,  9580 

And  crouched  hem,  and  bad  God  schuld  hem  blesse, 
And  made  al  secur  y-nowh  with  holinesse. 
Thus  ben  thay  weddid  with  solempnite  ; 
And  atte  fest  sittith  he  and  sche 
With  othir  worthy  folk  upon  the  deys. 
Al  ful  of  joy  and  blis  is  me  paleys, 
And  ful  of  instruments,  and  of  vitaile, 
The  inoste  deintevous  of  al  Ytaile. 
Biforn  hem  stood  such  instruments  of  soun, 
That  Orpheus,  ne  of  Thebes  Amphioun,  9590 

Ne  maden  never  such  a  melodye. 
At  every  cours  ther  can  loud  menstralcye, 
That  never  tromped  Joab  for  to  heere, 
Ne  he  Theodomas  yit  half  so  cleere 
At  Thebes,  whan  the  cite  was  in  doute. 
Bachus  the  wyn  hem  scheiichith  al  aboute, 
And  Venus  laughith  upon  every  wight, 
(For  January  was  bycome  hir  knight, 
And  wolde  bothe  as^ayeri  his  corrage 
In  liberte  and  eek  in  manage)  9800 

And  with  hir  fuyrbrond  in  hir  hond  aboute 
Daunceth  bifore  the  bryde  arid  al  the  route. 
And  certeynly  I  dar  right  wel  say  this, 
Ymeneus,  that  god  of  weddyng  is, 

9573.  herken.    Other  MSS.,  with  Tyrwhitt,  have  rekken. 

9fiW.  JV'e  he  Thtodomas,  "  This  person  is  mentioned  again  as  a  famous 
trumpeter  in  the  U.  of  F.  iii.  156,  l>ut  upon  what  authority  1  really  do  not 
kncnv.  I  should  suspect  that  our  author  met  with  him.  a'nd  the  anecdote 
alluded  to,  in  some  Romantic  History  of  Thebes.  UK  is  pretixed  to  proper 
names  emphatically,  according  to  the  Saxon  usage.  See  before  ver.  9242  him 
Holofernes  ;  ver.  Vi\l,  him  Mardoehee  ;  and  below  ver.  U60B.  Of  hire  1'hilolo 
gie  and  him  Mercury."—  Tyrusliitt. 


274  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Seigh  never  his  lif  so  mery  a  weddid  man. 

Holde  thy  pees,  thow  poete  Marcian, 

That  writest  us  that  ilke  weddyng  merye 

Of  hir  Philologie  and  he  Mercuric, 

And  of  the  songes  that  the  Muses  songe  ; 

To  snial  is  bothe  thy  penne  and  eek  thy  tonge         9610 

For  to  descrive  of  this  mariage. 

Whan  tender  youthe  hath  weddid  stoupyng  ago. 

Ther  is  such  mirthe  that  it  may  not  be  write  ; 

Assaieth  it  your  self,  than  may  ye  wyte 

If  that  I  lye  or  noon  in  this  mateere. 

Mayus,  that  sit  with  so  benigne  a  cheere, 

Hir  to  bihold  it  seemed  fayerye  ; 

Queen  Ester  loked  never  with  such  an  ye 

On  Assuere,  so  meke  a  look  hath  sche  ; 

I  may  not  yow  devyse  al  hir  beaute  3620 

But  thus  nioche  of  hir  beaute  telle  I  may, 

That  sche  was  lyk  the  brighte  inorw  of  May, 

Fulfild  of  alle  beaute  and  plesaunce. 

This  January  is  ravyscht  in  a  traunce, 
At  every  tyme  he  lokith  in  hir  face, 
But  in  his  hert  he  gan  hir  to  manace, 
That  he  that  night  in  armes  wold  hir  streyn- 
Harder  than  ever  Paris  did  Eleyne. 
But  natheles  yit  had  he  gret  pite 

That  thilke  night  offenden  hir  most  he,  9630 

And  thought :   "  Alas  I  O  tendre  creature, 
Now  wolde  God  ye  mighte  wel  endure 
Al  my  corrage,  it  is  so  scharp  and  keene  ; 
I  am  agast  ye  schul  it  not  susteene. 
For  God  forbede,  that  I  dede  al  my  might. 
Now  wolde  God  that  it  were  woxe  night, 
And  that  the  night  wold  stonden  evermo. 
I  wold  that  al  this  poeple  were  ago." 
And  fyrially  lie  doth  al  his  labour, 

As  he  best  mighte,  savyng  his  honour,  4640 

To  hast  hem  from  the  mete  in  subtil  wise. 

The  ty me  cam  that  resoun  was  to  ryse . 
And  after  that  men  daunce,  and  drynke  fast, 
Antf  spices  al  about  the  hous  thay  cast, 
And  ful  of  joy  and  blis  is  every  man,  • 
Al  but  a  squier,  that  hight  Damyan, 

9606.  Marcian.  Marcianus  Capella,  the  well-known  author  of  a  kind  of 
philosophical  romance,  JJe  Xupilis  Mercurii  tt  I'lMologicR. 

9608.  he  Mercurie.  Tyrwhitt  reads  him.  See  his  observations  in  the  uot« 
on  1.  9594.  I  have  not  ventured  to  alter  the  reading  of  the  Hail.  Ms.  where  il 
Involves  a  question  of  grammatical  construction. 

9637.  stonden.    Other  iiss.  read  fasten. 


TBE  MARCBAUNDES  TALE.  2V5 


Which  karl  to-for  the  knight  ful  many  a  day ; 

He  was  so  ravyssht  on  his  lady  May, 

That  for  the  verray  peyne  ho  was  nigh  wood  ; 

Almost  lie  swelt  and  swowned  ther  he  stood  ;          9650 

So  sore  hath  Venus  hurt  him  with  hir  brond, 

As  that  s<:he  bare  it  daunsyng  in  hir  hond. 

And  to  his  *>ed  he  went  him  hastily  , 

No  more  c   him  as  at  this  time  telle  I  ; 

But  ther  I  lete  him  now  his  wo  compleyne, 

Til  freisshe  May  wol  rewen  on  his  peyne. 

O  perilous  fuyr,  that  in  the  bed-straw  bredith  F 

O  famuler  fo,  that  his  service  bedith  ! 

O  servaunt  traitour,  false  homly  hewe, 

Lyk  to  the  nedder  in  bosom  sleighe  untrewe,  9660 

God  schild  us  alle  from  your  acqueintance  I 

O  January,  dronken  in  plesaunce 

Of  manage,  se  how  thy  Damyan, 

Thyn  oughne  squier  and  thy  borne  man, 

Enteiidith  for  to  do  the  vilonye ; 

God  graunte  the  thin  homly  fo  espye. 

For  in  this  world  nys  worse  pestilence. 

Parfourmed  hath  the  sonne  his  ark  diourne, 
No  lenger  may  the  body  of  him  sojourne  9670 

On  thorisonte,  as  in  that  latitude  ; 
Night  with  his  mantel,  that  is  derk  and  rude, 
Gan  oversprede  themesperie  aboute  ; 
For  which  departed  is  the  lusti  route 
Fro  January,  with  thank  on  every  side. 
Hoom  to  her  houses  lustily  thay  ryde, 
Wher  as  thay  doon  her  thinges,  as  hem  leste, 
And  whan  thay  seigh  her  tyine  thay  goon  to  reste. 
Soone  after  that  this  hasty  Januarie 
Wold  go  to  bed,  he  wold  no  lenger  tarie.  9680 

He  drinkith  ypocras,  clarre,  and  vernage 


J>656.  now  his  wo  compleyne.  Ms.  Lansd.,  with  others,  reads  let  him  wepe 
f-"*o\ce  and  pleine. 

9659.  homly,  Homly  of  course  means  domestic  :  heice  is  the  Anglo-Saxon 
iitfxi.  a  household  servant.  O  false  domestic  servant !  This  reading  of  our 
KB  u  undoubtedly  the  right  one.  Other  MSS.  have  holy  instead  of  homly,  an 
»rror  perhaps  arising  from  the  omission  of  the  mark  of  abbreviation  by  some 
8cr  be  who  copied  the  word  when  it  was  written  holy.  Tyrwhitt,  however, 
adr.ptfi  tliis  leading,  mistakes  the  meaning  of  the  word  htii-e,  and,  to  make 
•ense  of  the  passage,  adds  of,  which  is  found  in  noiie  of  the  MSS.  ;  and  in  hi* 
text  it  stands,  false  of  holy  hew?,  which  he  supposes  to  signify  false  of  holy 
color.  Conjectural  emendations  are  always  dangerous- 

90GO.  sLiyhr.  I  have  added  this  word  from  the  Ms.  Lajisdowne,  as  th« 
Une  seems  imperfect  without  it. 

96»1.  i-ernaye.  "  I'eniaccia,  Ital.  'Credo  sic  dictum  (says  Skinner)  quiuu 
Peronaccia,  ab  a^ro  freronensi,in  quo  optimum  ex  hoc  genere  vinuin  crescit," 
Hut  the  Vernage,  whatever  may  have  been  the  reason  of  its  name,  was  prot* 
tf)ly  a  wine  of  Crete,  or  of  the  neighboring  con -incut.  Froiss.  v.  iv  c.  IB.  '.)«i 


276  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Of  spices  hote,  to  encrese  bis  corrage  ; 

And  many  a  letuary  had  he  ful  fyn, 

Such  as  the  cursed  monk  daun  Constantin 

Hath  writen  in  his  book  de  Coitu  ; 

To  ete  hem  alle  he  wold  no  thing  eschieu. 

And  to  his  prive  frendes  thus  sayd  he  : 

"  For  Goddes  love,  as  soone  as  it  may  be, 

Let  voyden  al  this  hous  in  curteys  wise." 

And  thay  ban  doon  right  as  he  wold  devyse.  9690 

Men  drinken,  and  the  travers  drawe  anoon  ; 

The  bruyd  was  brought  abedde  as  stille  as  stoon  ; 

And  whan  the  bed  was  with  the  prest  y-blessid, 

Out  of  the  chambre  hath  every  wight  him  dressed 

And  January  hath  fast  in  armes  take 

His  freisshe  May,  his  paradys,  his  make. 

He  lullith  hir,  he  kissith  hir  ful  ofte  ; 

With  thikke  bristlis  on  his  berd  unsofte, 

Lik  to  the  skyn  of  houndfisch,  scharp  and  brere. 

(For  he  was  schave  al  newe  in  his  manere)  9700 

He  rubbith  hir  about  hir  tendre  face, 

And  sayde  thus  :  "  Alias  !  I  mot  trespace 

To  yow,  my  spouse,  and  vow  gretly  offende, 

Or  tyme  come  that  I  wol  doun  descende  ; 

But  natheles  considerith  this,"  quod  he, 

"  Ther  nys  no  werkman,  whatsoever  he  be, 

That  may  bothe  werke  wel  and  hastily  ; 

This  wol  be  doon  at  leysir  parfitly. 

It  is  no  fors  how  longe  that  we  pleye  ; 

In  trewe  wcdlok  coupled  be  we  tweye  ;  9710 

And  blessed  be  the  yoke  that  we  ben  inne, 

For  in  our  actes  we  mow  do  no  synne. 

A  man  may  do  no  synne  with  his  wif, 

Ne  hurt  himselven  with  his  oughne  knyf : 

For  we  han  leve  to  play  us  by  the  lawe." 

Thus  laborith  he,  til  that  the  day  gan  dawe, 
And  than  he  takith  a  sop  in  fyn  clarre, 
And  upright  in  his  bed  than  sittith  he. 
And  after  that  he  song  ful  lowd  and  clere, 
And  kissed  his  wyf,  and  made  wantoun  cheere. 

f  ii'ie  de  Cande  il  leur yenoit  tres  bonnes  malvoisies  et  grenaehes  (r.  (jemwhrt) 
doxl  ils  estoient  largcment  Bervis  et  confortez.  Our  author  in  another  place, 
Ter  13000,  1.  joins  together  the  wines  of  Malresie  and  Veiivuje.  Malv&sia 
was  a  tov/n  upon  the  eastern  coast  of  the  Morea,  near  the  site  of  the  ancient 
Epidaurus  Ljmera,  within  a  small  distance  from  Crete." — Tyrwhltt. 

968*1.  Constantin.  This  medical  writer  lived  about  the  year  1080,  according 
to  Fabricius,  DHL.  Meet.  *Et.  His  works,  including  the  treatise  mentioned  in 
the  text,  were  printed  at  Basil,  fol.  1536. 

9fi*6.  wold.  The  Ms.  HarL  reads  not,  which  seems  not  to  furnish  so  good 
ft  grammatical  construction. 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  277 


He  was  al  coltissch,  ful  of  ragerye,  9721 

And  ful  of  jargoun,  as  a  flekked  pye. 

The  slakke  skin  about  his  nekke  schakith, 

Whil  that  he  song,  so  chaunteth  he  and  craketh. 

But  God  wot  what  that  May  thought  in  hir  heft, 

'fVhaii  sche  him  saugh  up  sittying  in  his  schert, 

In  his  night-cappe,  and  with  his  nekke  lene ; 

Sche  praysith  nought  his  pleying  worth  a  bene. 

Than  sayd  he  thus  :  "  My  reste  wol  I  take 

Now  day  is  come,  I  may  no  lenger  wake."  97W 

And  doun  he  layd  his  heed  and  sleep  til  prime. 

And  afterward,  whan  that  he  saugh  his  tyme, 

Up  riseth  January,  but  freissche  May 

Holdith  hir  chamber  unto  the  fourthe  day, 

As  usage  is  of  wy  ves  for  the  best. 

For  every  labour  some  tyme  moot  have  rest, 

Or  elles  longe  may  he  not  endure  ; 

This  is  to  say,  no  lyves  creature, 

Be  it  of  fissch,  or  brid,  or  best,  or  man. 

Now  wol  I  speke  of  woful  Damyan,  9740 

That  languyssheth  for  love,  as  ye  schul  here ; 
Therfor  I  speke  to  him  in  this  manere. 
I  say,  "  O  sely  Damyan,  alias  1 
Answere  to  my  demaunde,  as  in  thie  caas, 
How  schaltow  to  thy  lady,  freissche  May, 
Telle  thy  woo  ?     Sche  wol  alway  say  nay  ; 
Eek  if  thou  speke,  sche  wol  thy  woo  bywreye : 
God  be  thy  help,  I  can  no  better  seye." 

This  seke  Damyan  in  Venus  fuyr 

So  brennith,  that  he  deyeth  for  desir  ;  9750 

For  which  he  put  his  lyf  in  aventure, 
No  lenger  might  he  in  this  wo  endure, 
But  prively  a  penner  gan  he  borwe, 
And  in  a  letter  wrot  he  al  his  sorwe, 
In  maner  of  a  compleynt  or  of  a  lay, 
Unto  his  faire  freissche  lady  May. 

972.3.  schaketh.  I  have  adopted  this  reading  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  as  being 
preferable  to  that  of  the  Ms.  Harl.  slukcth,  which  is  a  repetition  of  the  idea 
conveyed  by  the  previous  word  tlaklcc,  and  seems  to  create  a  redundancy  in 
the  meaning. 

9741.  languysshetli.      The  Lansd.   Ms.  reads  longurith,  1.  «.  fulls  into  Ian- 

fUOt. 

975.1.  a  penner.  The  penner  was  a  case  containing  the  pens,  ink,  and  other 
apparatus  of  writing,  which  the  clerk  carried  about  with  him,  as  the  Eastern 
students  do  at  the  present  day.  A."  such  a-rtirles  belonged  only  to  clergy  and 
scholars,  we  understand  why  the  "  xiuire  "  Iiumyau  was  obliged  to  borrow 
one  lor  his  use.  An  early  vocabulary  entitled  "  Nominate  '"  mentions,  among 
the  nomi/tit  rerum  pertinent ium  clvrieo,  "  pennare,  <i  pencr." 

9755.  compleynt  .  .  .  lay.  These  were  the  technical  names  of  two  formi 
•(  metrical  composition. 


278  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  in  a  purs  of  silk,  heng  on  his  schert, 
He  bath  it  put,  and  layd  it  at  his  hert. 

The  inoone  that  a-noon  was  thilke  day 
That  January  hath  weddid  freische  May  9760 

In  tuo  of  Taure,  was  into  Cancre  gliden  ; 
So  long  hath  Mayus  in  hir  chambre  abideu, 
As  custom  is  unto  these  nobles  alle. 
A  bryde  schal  not  eten  in  the  halle, 
Til  dayes  foure  or  thre  dayes  atte  lest 
J-passed  ben,  than  let  hir  go  to  the  fest 
The  fourthe  day  cornplet  fro  noon  to  noon. 
Whan  that  the  heighe  masse  was  i-doon, 
In  halle  sitte  this  January  and  May, 
As  freissch  as  is  the  brighte  someres  day.  9770 

And  so  bifelle,  that  this  goode  man 
Remembrid  him  upon  this  Damyan, 
And  sayde,  "  Seinte  Mary  I  how  may  this  be, 
That  Damyan  entendith  not  1o  me  ? 
Is  he  ay  seek  ?  or  how  may  this  bityde  ?" 
His  squiers,  which  that  stoode  ther  bisyde, 
Excusid  him,  bycause  of  his  syknesse, 
Which  letted  him  to  doon  his  busynesse  ; 
Noon  other  cause  mighte  make  him  tarie. 
"  That  me  for-thinketh,"  quod  this  Januarie  ;         9?80 
"  lie  is  a  gentil  squyer,  by  my  trouthe, 
If  that  he  deyde,  it  were  harm  and  routhe. 
He  is  as  wys,  discret,  and  eek  secre, 
As  any  man  I  wot  of  his  degre, 
And  therto  manerly  and  servysable, 
And  for  to  be  a  thrifty  man  right  able. 
But  after  mete,  as  soon  as  ever  I  may 
1  wol  myself  visit  him,  and  eek  May, 
To  doon  him  al  the  confort  that  I  can." 
And  for  that  word  him  blessed  every  man,  9790 

That  of  his'  bounte  and  his  gentilesse 
He  wolde  so  comfort  in  seekenesse 
His  squyer.  for  it  was  a  gentil  deede. 
"  Dame,"  quod  this  January,  "  tak  good  heede, 
At  after  mete,  ye  with  your  wommen  alle, 

9761.  In  tuo  of  Taure.  Tyrwhitt  alters  this  reading  (which  is  that  of  ne*i  jy 
•11  the  MSS.)  into  ten,  and  observes:  "The  greatest  number  of  MS9.  read, 
two,  tuo,  too,  or  10.  But  the  time  given  (foure  <layes  comple/e,  ver.  97G7)  is  not 
•ufiicient  for  the  moon  to  pass  from  the  2d  degree  of  Taurus  into  Cancer. 
The  moan  daily  motion  of  the  moon  being  =  13D  10'  3o",  her  motion  in  4  days 
ta.=  l822°42;,  or  not  quite  63  degrees;  so  that  supposing  her  to  get  out  from  the 
2d  of  Taurus,  she  would  not  in  that  time  be  advanced  beyond  the  25th  degree 
ot  Gemini.  If  she  set  out  from  the  loth  degree  of  Taurus,  as  1  have  corrected 
Uie  text,  she  might  property  enough  be  said,  in  four  days,  to  be  yliden  int. 
run./^r."—  Tyrwhiti. 


THE  MARCBAUNDES  TALE.  279 


(Whan  ye  han  ben  in  chambre  out  of  this  hallo" 

That  alle  ye  goo  to  se  this  Damyan  ; 

Doth  him  desport,  he  is  a  gentil  man, 

And  tellith  him  that  I  wil  him  visite, 

Have  I  no  thing  but  reste  :.  mt  a  lyte;  8800 

And  spedith  yow  faste,  fo.  1  w  A  abyde 

Til  that  ye  slepe  faste  by  my  syde." 

And  with  that  word  he  gan  unto  him  calle 

A  squier,  that  was  marchal  of  his  halle, 

And  told  him  certeyn  thiiiges  that  he  wolde. 

TLis  freisshe  May  hath  straight  hir  wey  i-holde 
With  alle  hir  wommen  unto  Damyan. 
Doun  by  his  beddes  syde  sat  sche  than, 
Comfortyng  him  as  ^odly  as  sche  may. 

This  Damyan,  whan  that  his  tyme  he  say,  9810 

lu  secre  wise,  his  purs,  and  eek  his  bille, 
In  which  that  he  i-writeii  had  his  wille, 
Hath  put  into  hir  hond  withouten  more, 
Save  that  he  siketh  wonder  deepe  and  sore, 
And  softely  to  hir  right  thus  say  he  ; 
"  Mercy,  and  that  ye  not  discover  me  ; 
For  I  am  deed,  if  that  this  thing  be  kidde." 
This  purs  hath  sche  inwith  hir  bosom  hud, 
And  went  hir  way  ;  ye  gete  no  more  of  me  ; 
But  unto  January  comen  is  sche,  98?€ 

That  on  his  Leddes  syde  sit  ful  softe. 
He  takith  hir,  and  kissith  hir  ful  ofte  ; 
And  layd  him  doun  to  slepe,  and  that  anoon. 
Sche  feyned  hir  as  that  sche  moste  goon 
Ther  as  ye  woot  that  every  wight  moot  neede  ; 
And  whan  sche  of  this  bille  hath  taken  heede, 
Sche  rent  it  al  to  cloutes  atte  laste, 
And  into  the  privy  softely  it  cast. 

Who  studieth  now  but  faire  freissche  May  ? 
Adoun  by  olde  January  sche  lay,  9830 

That  slepith,  til  that  the  coughe  hath  him  awak«xl ; 
Anoon  he  prayde  stripen  hir  al  naked, 
He  wold  of  hir,  he  sayd,  have  some  plesaunce  ; 
Hir  clothis  dede  him,  he  sayde,  som  grevaunce. 
And.  sche  obeieth,  be  hir  lief  or  loth. 
But  lest  that  precious  folk  be  with  me  wroth, 

9817.  be  Iddde.    The  Ifarl.  Ms.  reads  here  and  iu  th«  I  blowing  Ii7ie, 

if  that  tliis  thing  discovered  be, 

This  purs  in  hir  bosom  hud  hath  sche. 

But  I  prefer  the  reading  here  adopted  from  the  LanHd.  Ms.,  ou  account  of 
tho  repetition  of  rhyme*  in  the  other  reading. 


280  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

How  that  he  wroughte  I  dar  not  telle, 

Or  whethir  it  seined  him  paradys  or  helle  ; 

But  here  1  lete  hem  werken  in  her  wise 

Til  evensong  rong,  and  than  thay  most  arise.          9340 

Whethir  it  be  by  desteny  or  adventure, 
Were  it  by  influence,  or  by  nature, 
Or  by  constellacioun,  that  in  such  estate 
.  The  heven  stood  that  tyme  fortunate, 
As  for  to  putte  a  bille  of  Venus  werkis 
(For  alle  thing  hath  tyrne,  as  seyn  these  cleikis) 
To  eny  womman  for  to  gete  hir  love, 
I  can  not  say,  but  grete  God  above, 
That  knowith  that  noon  acte  is  causeles, 
He  deme  of  al,  for  I  wil  holdo  my  pees.  9850 

But  soth  is  this,  how  that  th.;s  freisshe  May 
Hath  take  such  impressioun  that  day, 
Of  pite  on  this  sike  Damyan, 
That  from  hir  herte  sche  ne  dry ve  can 
The  remembraunce  for  to  doon  him  ease. 
"  Certeyn,"  thought  sche,  "  whom  that  this  thing  dis- 
please 

I  rekke  not,  for  her  I  him  assure, 
To  love  him  best  of  eny  creature, 
Though  he  no  more  hadde  than  his  scherte." 
Lo,  pite  renneth  soone  in  gentil  herte.  986( 

Heer  may  ye  see,  how  excellent  fraunchise 
In  womman  is  whan  thay  narow  hem  avyse. 
Som  tyraunt  is,  as  ther  ben  many  oon, 
That  hath  an  hert  as  hard  as  is  a  stoon, 
Which  wold  han  lete  sterven  in  the  place 
Wei  rather  than  han  graunted  him  her  grace  ; 
And  hem  rejoysen  in  her  cruel  pride, 
And  rekken  nought  to  ben  an  homicide. 

This  gentil  May,  fulfilled  of  pite, 

Right  of  hir  hond  a  letter  maked  sche,  J370 

In  which  sche  grauntith  him  hir  verray  grace  ; 
Ther  lakkid  nought  but  oonly  day  and  place, 
Wher  that  sche  might  unto  his  lust  suflise  ; 
For  it  schal  be,  right  as  he  wol  devyse. 
And  whan  sche  saugh  hir  tyme  upon  a  day 
To  visite  this  Damyan  goth  May 
And  subtilly  this  lettre  doun  sche  thruste 
Under  his  pylow,  rede  it  if  hiui  luste. 
Sche  takith  him  by  the  hond,  and  hard  him  twistfl 
So  secrely,  that  no  wight  of  it  wiste,  9880 

And  bad  him  be  al  hool,  and  forth  sche  wente 
To  January,  whan  that  he  for  hir  sente. 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  281 

Up  ryseth  Damyan  the  nexte  morwe, 

Al  passed  was  his  tiknes  and  his  sorwe. 

He  kembith  him,  he  pruneth  him  and  pyketh, 

lie  doth  al  that  unto  his  lady  likith  ; 

And  eek  to  January  he  goth  as  lowe 

As  ever  did  a  dogge  for  the  bowe. 

He  is  so  plesaunt  unto  every  man, 

(For  craft  is  al,  Avho  so  that  do  it  can)  9890 

That  every  wight  is  fayn  to  speke  him  good  ; 

And  fully  in  his  ladys  grace  he  stood. 

Thus  lete  I  Damyan  about  his  neede, 

And  in  my  tale  forth  I  wol  procede. 

Some  clerkes  holden  that  felicite 
Stant  in  delit,  arid  therfor  certeyn  he 
This  noble  January,  with  al  his  might 
In  honest  wise  as  longith  to  a  knight, 
Scliop  him  to  lyve  ful  deliciously. 

His  housyng,  his  array,  as  honestly  990C 

To  his  degre  was  maked  as  a  kynges. 
Amonges  other  of  his  honest  thinges 
He  had  a  gardyn  walled  al  with  stoon. 
So  fair  a  gardyn  wot  I  no  wher  noon. 
For  out  of  doute  I  verrely  suppose, 
That  he  that  wroot  the  itomauns  of  the  Rose, 
Ne  couthe  of  it  the  beaute  wel  devyse  ; 
Ne  Priapus  rie  might  not  wel  suffice, 
Though  he  be  god  of  gardyns,  for  to  telle 
The  beaute  of  the  gardyn,  and  the  welle,  9910 

That  stood  under  a  laurer  alway  greene. 
Ful  ofte  tyine  he  Pluto  and  his  queene 
Preserpina,  arid  al  the  fayerie, 
Desporten  hem  and  makeii  melodye 
Aboute  that  welle,  and  daunced,  as  men  tolde. 
This  noble  knight,  this  January  the  olde, 
Such  deynto  hath  in  it  to  walk  and  pleye, 
That  he  wold  no  wight  suffre  bere  the  keye, 
Save  he  himself,  for  of  the  smale  wyket 
lie  bar  alway  of  silver  a  smal  cliket,  9920 

With  which  whan  that  him  list  he  it  unschette. 
And  whan  he  wolde  pay  his  wyf  hir  dette 
In  sc  uier  sesoun,  thider  wold  he  go, 
And  May  his  wyf,  and  no  wight  but  thay  tuo  ; 
And  thiuges  which  that  wereu  not  doon  in  bedde, 

W88.  a  dogge  for  the  botce.    A  dog  used  in  shooting.     Coiif.  1.  6951. 

9U06.  liomauns  of  the  Host.  The  Jlomunce  of  the.  Hose  opens  wioh  tie  d«- 
vjription  of  a  magnificent  gardon,  which  was  looked  upon  by  subsequent 
triu-rg  as  the  liigliest  perfection  of  such  descriptions. 


282  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


He  in  the  gardyn  parformed  hem  and  spedde 

And  in  this  wise  many  a  mery  day 

Lyved  this  January  and  freische  May  ; 

But  worldly  joye  may  not  alway  endure 

To  January,  ne  to  no  creature.  9930 

O  sodeyn  hap  !  o  thou  fortune  unstable  ! 
Lyk  to  the  scorpioun  so  desceyvable, 
That  flaterest  with  thin  heed  whan  thou  wilt  stynge  ; 
Thy  tayl  is  deth,  thurgh  thin  envenymynge. 
O  britel  joye  !  o  sweete  venym  queynte  ! 
O  monster,  that  so  subtily  canst  peynte 
Thyn  giftes,  under  hew  of  stedfastnesse, 
That  thou  desceyvest  bothe  more  and  lesst ! 
Why  hastow  January  thus  deceyved, 
That  haddist  him  for  thy  fulle  frend  receyved  ?       9940 
And  now  thou  hast  byreft  him  bothe  his  yen, 
For  sorw  of  which  desireth  he  to  dyen. 
Alias  !  this  noble  January  fre, 
Amyd  his  lust  and  his  prosperite 
Is  woxe  blynd,  and  that  al  sodeynly. 
He  wepith  and  he  weyleth  pitously  ; 
And  therwithal,  the  fuyr  of  jelousye 
(Lest  that  his  wif  schuld  falle  in  some  folye) 
So  brent  his  herte  that  he  wolde  fayn 
That  som  man  bothe  hir  and  him  had  slayn  ;         9950 
For  neyther  after  his  deth,  nor  in  his  lyf, 
Ne  wold  he  that  sche  were  love  ne  wyf, 
But  ever  lyve  as  wydow  in  clothes  blake, 
Soul  as  the  turtil  that  lost  hath  hir  make. 
But  atte  last,  after  a  moneth  or  tweye, 
His  sorwe  gan  aswage,  soth  to  seye. 
For  whan  he  wist  it  may  noon  other  be, 
He  paciently  took  his  adversite  ; 
Save  out  of  doute  he  may  not  forgoon, 
That  Le  nas  jalous  evermore  in  oon  ;  9960 

Which  jalousie  it  was  so  outrageous, 
That  neyther  in  halle,  lie  in  noon  other  hous, 
Ne  in  noon  other  place  never  the  mo 
He  nolde  suffre  hir  to  ryde  or  go, 
But  if  that  he  had  hond  on  hir  alway. 
For  which  ful  ofte  wepeth  freische  May, 
That  loveth  Damyan  so  benignely, 
That  sche  moot  outlier  deyen  sodeinly, 
Or  elles  sche  moot  han  him  as  hir  lest ; 
She  waytith  whan  hir  herte  woulde  brest.  9970 

Upon  that  other  syde  Damyan 
Bicomen  is  the  sorwfulleste  man 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  283 


That  ever  was,  for  neyther  night  ne  day 

Ne  might  he  speke  a  word  to  fressche  May, 

As  to  his  purpos,  of  no  such  matiere, 

But  if  that  January  most  it  heere, 

That  had  an  hond  upon  hir  evermo. 

But  natheles,  by  writyng  to  and  fro, 

And  prive  signes,  wist  he  what  sche  ment, 

And  sche  knew  eek  the  fyn  of  his  entent.  9980 

O  January,  what  might  it  thee  availe, 
If  thou  might  see  as  fer  as  schippes  saile  ? 
For  as  good  is  blynd  deceyved  be, 
As  to  be  deceyved  whan  a  man  may  see. 
Lo,  Argus,  which  that  had  an  hundred  even, 
For  al  that  ever  he  couthe  poure  or  prien, 
Yet  was  he  blent,  as,  God  wot,  so  ben  moo, 
Tha£  weneth  wisly  that  it  be  nought  so  ; 
Passe  over  is  an  ease,  I  say  no  more. 
This  freissche  May,  that  I  spak  of  so  yore,  9990 

In  warm  wex  hath  emprynted  the  cliket, 
That  January  bar  of  the  sinale  wiket, 
By  which  into  his  gardyn  ofte  he  went, 
And  Damyan  that  knew  al  hir  entent 
The  cliket  counterfeted  prively  ; 
Ther  nys  no  more  to  say,  but  hastily 
iSom  wonder  by  this  cliket  schal  betyde, 
Which  ye  schal  heeren,  if  ye  wol  abyde. 

O  noble  Ovyde,  wel  soth  saistow,  Grot  woot, 
What  sleight  is  it  though  it  be  long  and  hoot,       10000 
That  he  nyl  fynd  it  out  in  some  manere  ? 
By  Piramus  arid  Thesbe  may  men  leere  ; 
Though  tbay  were  kept  ful  longe  streyt  over  al, 
Thay  ben  accorded,  rownyng  thurgh  a  wal, 
Ther  no  wight  couthe  han  found  out  swicli  a  sleight. 
For  now  to  purpos  ;  er  that  dayes  eyght 
Were  passed  of  the  moneth  of  Juyl,  bifille 
That  January  hath  caught  so  gret  a  wille, 
Thorugh  eggyiig  of  his  wyf,  him  for  to  pleye 
In  his  gardyn,  and  110  wight  but  they  tweye,          IOOH 
That  in  a  inorwe  unto  this  May  saithe  he  : 
"  Rys  up,  my  wif,  my  love,  my  laJy  fre  j 
The  turtlis  vois  is  herd,  my  douve  swete  ; 
The  wynter  is  goon,  with  his  raynea  wete. 
Come  forth  now  with  thin  eyghen  columbine, 
liow  fairer  beu  thy  brestes  than  is  the  wyne. 


lOOOO.  though  it.     Tyrwhitt  reads  if  love,  against  the  authority  of  the 
MM. 


284  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

The  gardyn  is  enclosed  al  aboute  ; 

Com  forth,  ruy  swete  spouse,  out  of  doute, 

Thow  hast  me  wounded  in  inyn  hert,  o  wyf ; 

No  spot  in  the  knew  I  in  al  my  lif.  10020 

Com  forth,  and  let  us  take  oure  desport, 

I  ches  the  for  my  wyf  and  my  comfort." 

Such  olde  lewed  wordes  used  he. 

Un  Damyan  a  signe  made  sche, 

That  he  schuld  go  biforn  with  his  cliket. 

This  Damyan  than  hath  opened  the  wiket, 

And  in  he  stert,  and  that  in  such  manere, 

That  no  wight  it  mighte  see  nor  heere, 

And  stille  he  seet  under  a  bussch.     Anoon 

This  January,  as  blyiid  as  is  a  stoon,  10030 

With  May  us  in  his  hond,  a_nd  no  wight  mo, 

Into  this  freische  gardyn  is  ago, 

And  clappid  to  the  wiket  sodeinly. 

"  Now,  wyf,"  quod  he,  "  her  nys  but  ye  and  I, 

Thou  art  the  creature  that  I  best  love  ; 

For  by  that  lord  that  sit  in  heven  above, 

Lever  ich  had  to  dyen  on  a  knyf, 

Than  the  offende,  deere  trewe  wyf. 

For  Goddes  sake,  thenk  how  I  the  chees, 

Nought  for  no  coveytise  douteles,  10040 

But  oonly  for  the  love  I  had  to  the. 

And  though  that  I  be  old  and  may  not  se, 

Beeth  trewe  to  me,  and  I  wol  telle  yow  why  ; 

Thre  thinges,  certes,  schul  ye  wynne  therby  ; 

First,  love  of  Crist,  and  to  your  self  honour, 

And  al  myn  heritage,  toun  and  tour. 

I  give  it  yow,  makith  chartres  as  yow  leste ; 

This  schal  ben  doon  to  morw  er  sonne  reste, 

So  wialy  God  my  soule  bringe  to  blisse  ! 

I  pray  yow  first  in  covenaunt  ye  me  kisse.  10050 

And  though  that  I  be  jalous,  wyt  me  nought ; 

Ye  ben  so  deep  emprinted  in  my  thought, 

That  whan  that  I  corisidre  your  beaute, 

And  therwithal  the  uulikly  eelde  of  me, 

I  may  nought,  certes,  though  I  schulde  dye, 

Forbere  to  ben  out  of  your  companye 

For  verray  love  ;  this  is  witbouten  doute  : 

Now  kisse  me,  wyf,  and  let  us  rome  aboute." 

This  freissche  May,  whan  sche  his  wordes  herde, 

Benignely  to  January  answerde,  10000 

But  iirst  and  forward  sche  bigan  to  wepo  : 

"  I  have,"  quod  sche,  "  a  soule  for  to  kt-pe 

As  wel  as  ye,  and  also  myn  honour. 


THE  MARCPAUNDES  TALE.  '285 


And  of  my  wifhod  thilke  tendre  flour, 

Which  that  I  have  ensured  in  your  hond, 

Whan  that  the  prest  to  yow  my  body  bond  ; 

Wherfor  I  wil  answer  in  this  manere, 

With  the  leve  of  yow,  myn  owen  lord  so  deere. 

I  pray  to  God  that  never  da  we  the  day, 

That  I  ne  sterve,  as  foule  as  woinman  may,  10070 

If  ever  I  do  unto  my  kyn  that  schame, 

Or  elles  I  empaire  so  my  name, 

That  I  be  fals  ;  and  if  I  do  that  lak, 

Doth  strepe  me,  and  put  me  in  a  sak, 

And  in  the  nexte  ry ver  do  me  drenche ; 

I  am  a  gentil  worn  man,  and  no  wenche. 

Why  speke  ye  thus  ?  but  men  ben  ever  untrewe, 

And  wommen  han  reproef  of  yow  ever  newe. 

Ye  have  noon  other  contenaunce,  I  leve, 

But  speke  to  us  as  of  untrust  and  repreve."  10080 

And  with  that  word  sche  saugh  wher  Dainyan 

Sat  in  the  buissh,  and  coughen  sche  bigan  j 

And  with  liir  fyngres  signes  made  sche, 

That  Damyan  schuld  clymb  upon  a  tre, 

That  charged  was  with  fruyt,  and  up  he  went ; 

For  verrayly  he  knew  al  hir  entent, 

And  every  signe  that  sche  couthe  make, 

Wei  bet  than  January  hir  oughne  make. 

For  in  a  letter  sche  had  told  him  al 

Of  this  matier,  how  he  worche  schal.  10330 

And  thus  I  lete  him  sitte  in  the  pirie, 

And  January  and  May  romynge  mirye. 

Bright  was  the  day,  and  bliew  the  firmament ; 
Phebus  hath  of  gold  his  stremes  doun  i-sent 
To  gladen  every  Hour  with  his  warmnesse  ; 
lie  was  that  tyme  in  Gremines,  as  I  gesse, 
But  litel  fro  his  declinacioun 
Of  Canker,  Joves  exaltacioun. 
And  so  bifel  that  brighte  morwen  tyde, 
That  in  that  gardyn,  in  the  ferther  syde,  10100 

Pluto,  that  is  the  kyng  of  fayerye, 
And  many  a  lady  in  his  compaigiiie 
Folwyng  his  wif,  the  queene  Preserpina, 
Whiche  that  he  ravesched  out  of  Ethna, 
Whil  that  sche  gadred  iloures  in  the  mede 
(In  Claudian  ye  may  the  story  rede, 
How  in  his  grisly  carte  he  hir  fetto) ; 

<0l0d.  Prwcrp'.na.    The  Hurl.  Ms.  reads,  by  somo  orror  of  the  BCiib*r- 

I'reuerplne, 

Kch  after  other  as  right  ae  a  lyne. 


286  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

This  king  of  fayry  than  adoun  him  sette 

Upon  a  bench  of  turves  freissh  and  greene, 

An.]  right  aiioon  thus  sayd  he  to  his  queene  •         10110 

'•'  My  wyf,"  quod  he,  "  ther  uiay  no  wight  say  nay 
Thexperiens  so  preveth  every  day, 
The  tresoun  which  that  womiuan  doth  to  man. 
Ten  hundrid  thousand  stories  tellen  I  can 
Notable  of  your  untrouth  and  brutelnesse. 
O  Salamon,  wys  and  richest  of  richesse, 
Pulfild  of  sapiens,  and  of  worldly  glorie, 
Ful  worthy  ben  thy  wordes  to  memorie 
To  every  wight,  that  wit  and  resoun  can. 
Thus  praysith  he  yit  the  bounte  of  man ;  10120 

Among  a  thousand  men  yit  fond  I  oon, 
But  of  alle  wommen  found  1  never  noon. 
Thus  saith  the  king,  that  knoweth  your  wikkednesse  j 
That  Jhesus,  fllius  Sirac,  as  I  gesse, 
Ne  spekjth  of  yow  but  selde  reverence. 
A  wild  Juyr  and  corrupt  pestilence 
So  falle  upon  your  bodies  yit  to  night ! 
Ne  see  ye  not  this  honurable  knight  ? 
Bycause,  alias  I  that  he  is  blynd  and  old, 
His  owne  man  schal  make  him  cokewold.  10180 

Loo,  wher  he  sitt,  the  lecchour,  in  the  tre. 
Now  wol  I  graunten,  of  my  majeste, 
Unto  this  olde  blinde  worthy  knight, 
That  he  schal  have  agein  his  eyghen  sight, 
Whan  that  his  wyf  wol  do  him  vilonye  ; 
Than  schal  he  knowe  al  her  harlotrye, 
Bothe  in  reproef  of  her  and  other  mo." 
"  Ye  schal  ?  "  quod  Preserpine,  "  and  wol  ye  s  >  ? 
Now  by  my  inodres  Ceres  soule  I  swere, 
That  I  schal  give  hir  suffisaunt  answere,  10140 

And  alle  wommen  after  for  hir  sake  ; 
That  though  thay  be  in  any  gult  i-take, 
With  face  bold  thay  schul  hemself  excuse, 
And  bere  hem  doun  that  wolde  hem  accus. 
For  lak  of  answer,  noon  of  hem  schal  dyen. 
Al  had  ye  seyn  a  thing  with  bothe  your  yen, 
Yit  schul  we  wymmen  visage  it  hardily, 
And  wepe  and  swere  and  chide  subtilly, 

.0121.  Among  a  thousand.    See  Ecclesiaites,  vli.  28. 

1013C.  Ceres.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  Sires;   the  Lansd.  Sire.     (!er«n  if  »l 
«oura«t  Uie  word  intended. 

10146.  The  Harl.  Ma.  r*ads  this  line,— 

Al  had  a  man  seyn  a  thing  with  bothe  his  yen. 


THE  MARCtiAUNDES  TALE.  287 


That  ye  schul  ben  as  lewed  as  ben  gees, 

What  rekkith  me  of  your  auctoritees?  lOIHO 

I  wol  wel  that  this  Jew,  this  Salamon, 

Fond  of  us  wommen  fooles  many  oon  ; 

But  though  he  ne  fond  no  good  wonmian, 

Yit  hath  ther  founde  many  another  man 

Wommen  ful  trewe,  ful  good,  and  vertuous  ; 

Witnesse  on  hem  that  dwelle  in  Cristes  hous, 

With  martirdom  thay  proved  hir  constaunce. 

The  Romayn  gestes  eek  make  remembraunce 

Of  many  a  verray  trewe  wyf  also. 

But,  sire,  be  nought  wrath,  al  be  it  so,  10160 

Though  that  he  sayd  he  fond  no  good  womman, 

I  pray  yow  tak  the  sentens  of  the  man  ; 

He  mente  thus,  that  in  sovereign  bounte 

Nis  noon  but  God,  that  sit  in  Trinite. 

Ey,  for  verrey  God  that  nys  but  oon, 

What  make  ye  so  moche  of  Salamon  ? 

What  though  he  made  a  temple,  Goddes  hous  ? 

What  though  he  were  riche  and  glorious  ? 

So  made  he  eek  a  temple  of  fals  godis, 

How  might  he  do  a  thing  that  more  forbod  is  ?       10170 

Parde,  als  fair  as  ye  his  name  emplastre, 

He  was  a  lecchour  arid  an  ydolastre, 

And  in  his  eelde  he  verray  God  forsook  ; 

And  if  that  God  ne  hadde  (as  saith  the  book) 

I-spared  him  for  his  fadres  sake,  he  scholde 

Have  lost  his  regne  rather  than  he  wolde. 

sette  right  nought  of  the  vilonye, 
That  ye  of  wommen  write,  a  boterflie  ; 
I  am  a  womman,  needes  most  I  speke, 
Or  elles  swelle  tyl  inyn  herte  breke.  10180 

For  syn  he  sayd  that  we  ben  jangleresses, 
As  ever  hool  I  moote  brouke  my  tresses, 
1  schal  not  spare  for  no  curtesye 
To  speke  him  harm,  that  wold  us  vilonye." 
"  Dame,"  quod  this  Pluto,  "  be  no  lenger  wroth. 
I  give  it  up  :  but  sith  I  swore  myri  oth, 
That  I  wil  graunte  him  his  sight  agein, 
My  word  schal  stonde,  I  warne  yow  certeyn  ; 
I  am  a  kyng,  it  sit  me  nought  to  lye." 
"  And  I,"  quod  sche,  "  am  queen  of  faierie.  10190 

Hir  answer  schal  sche  have,  I  undertake  ; 

10168.  The  nomayn  yesies.  Tyrwliitt  Bays  thixt  the  allusion  is  to  the  popn- 
»r  book  known  as  the  Get/a  Itinnanorum,  L  am  inclined,  however,  to  think 
U  more  probable  that  the  poet  had  in  his  eye  the  example*  of  Lucretia,  Per- 
UA,  and  other  ladies  celebrated  in  lioman  history. 


288  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Let  us  no  mo  wordes  herof  make. 
Forsoth  I  wol  no  lenger  yow  contrarie." 

Now  let  us  turne  agayn  to  Januarye, 
That  in  this  gardyn  with  this  faire  May 
Syngeth,  ful  merier  tlian  the  papinjay, 
"  YOAV  love  I  best,  and  schal,  and  other  noon." 
So  long  about  the  aleys  is  he  goon, 
Til  he  was  come  agaynes  thilke  pirie, 
Wher  as  this  Damyan  sittith  ful  mirye  10200 

On  heigh,  among  the  freische  levyes  greene. 
This  freissche  May,  that  is  so  bright  and  scheene, 
Gran  for  to  syke,  and  sayd,  "  Alias  my  syde ! 
Now,  sir,"  quod  sche,  "  for  aught  that  may  bityde, 
I  most  han  of  the  peres  that  I  see, 
Or  I  moot  dye,  so  sore  longith  me 
To  eten  of  the  smale  peris  greene  ; 
Help  for  hir  love  that  is  of  heven  queene  ! 
I  telle  yow  wel  a  Avomman  in  my  plyt 
May  have  to  fruyt  so  gret  an  appetyt,  10210 

That  sche  may  d'eyen,  but  sche  it  have." 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  he,  "  that  I  nad  heer  a  knave 
That  couthe  cliinbe,  alias  !  alias  1  "  quod  he, 
''  For  I  am  blynd."     "  Ye,  sii-e,  no  fors,"  quod  sche  ; 
"  But  wolde  ye  vouchesauf,  for  Goddes  sake, 
The  piry  inwith  your  armes  for  to  take, 
(For  wel  I  woot  that  ye  mystruste  me) 
Than  schold  I  clymbe  wel  y-nough,"  quod  sche, 
"  So  I  my  foot  might  set  upon  your  bak." 
"  Certes,"  quod  he,  "  theron  schal  be  no  lak,  I02SO 

Might  I  yow  helpe  with  myn  herte  blood." 
He  stoupith  doun,  and  on  his  bak  sche  sto">d, 
And  caught  hir  by  a  twist,  and  up  sche  goth. 
Ladys,  I  pray  yow  that  ye  be  not  wroth, 
I  can  not  glose,  1  am  a  rude  man)  : 
And  sodeiiily  anoon  this  Damyan 
Qan  pullen  up  the  smok,  and  in  he  throng. 

And  whan  that  Pluto  saugh  this  grete  wrong, 
To  January  he  gaf  agayn  his  sight 
[And  made  him  see  as  wel  as  ever  he  might.  10220 

And  whan  he  thus  had  caught  his  sight  again], 
Ne  was  ther  never  man  of  thing  so  fayn  ; 

10227.  In  some  late  MSS.,  and  in  the  printed  editions,  several  lines  of  ob- 
scene ribaldry  are  added  here  fend  in  the  subsequent  parts  of  the  tale  ;  but  ai 
they  are  not  found  in  MSS.  of  any  authority,  Tyrwhitt  very  properly  omitted 
them.  It  may  be  observed  that  there  are  several  other  variationr-  in  parts  ol 
thin  tale  in  some  MSS.  which  it  lia«  not  been  thought  necessary  t<  point  out. 

10230.  Thieand  the  following  line,  given  here  from  Tyrwhitt,  are  not  found 
in  the  lltrl.  MB. 


THE  MARCHAUNDES  TALE.  289 

But  en  his  wyf  his  thought  was  everino. 

Up  to  the  tree  he  kest  his  eyghen  tuo, 

And  seigh  that  Dainyan  his  wyf  had  dressid 

In  which  maner  it  may  not  ben  expressid, 

But  if  I  wolde  speke  uiicurteisly. 

And  up  he  gaf  a  roryng  and  a  cry, 

As  doth  the  moder  whan  the  child  schal  dye  ; 

"  Out !  help  !  alias  1  harrow  !  "  he  gan  to  crie  j     103  U. 

"  O  stronge  lady  stoure,  what  dos  thow  ?  " 

And  sche  answerith  :  "  Sire,  what  eylith  yovv  ? 
Have  paciens  and  resoun  in  your  inynde, 
I  have  yow  holpen  on  bothe  your  eyen  blynde. 
Up  peril  of  my  soule,  I  schal  not  lyen, 
As  me  was  taught  to  hele  with  your  yen 
Was  nothing  bet  for  to  make  yow  see, 
Than  stroggle  with  a  man  upon  a  tree  ; 
God  woot,  I  dede  it  in  ful  good  entent." 
"Stroggle  !  "  quod  he,  "  ye,  algat  in  it  went,          10250 
God  give  yow  bothe  on  schames  deth  to  dyen ! 
He  swy ved  the ;  I  saugh  it  with  myn  yen  ; 
And  elles  be  I  honged  by  the  hals." 
"  Than  is,"  quod  sche,  "  iny  medicine  fals. 
For  certeynly,  if  that  ye  mighten  see, 
Ye  wold  not  say  tho  wordes  unto  me. 
Ye  han  soin  glymsyng,  and  no  parfyt  sight." 
"  I  se,"  quod  he,  "  as  wel  as  ever  I  might, 
(Thankid  be  God)  with  bothe  myn  yen  tuo, 
And  by  my  trouth  me  thought  he  did  the  so."       10260 
"  Ye,  mase,  mase,  goode  sir,"  quod  sche  ; 
"  This  thank  have  I  for  I  have  maad  yow  see  ; 
Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  that  ever  I  was  so  kynde." 
"  Now,  dame,"  quod  he,  "  let  al  passe  out  of  mynde  ; 
Com  doun,  my  leef,  and  if  I  have  myssayd, 
God  help  me  so,  as  I  am  evel  appayd. 
But  by  rny  faders  soule,  I  wende  have  seyn, 
How  that  this  Damyan  had  by  the  leyn, 
And  that  thy  smok  had  layn  upon  thy  brest." 
"  Ye,  sire,"  quod  sche,  "  ye  may  wene  as  yow  lest  ; 
But,  sire,  a  man  that  wakith  out  of  his  slep,  108?j 

He  may  not  sodeynly  wel  take  keep 
Upon  a  thing,  ne  seen  it  parfytly, 
Til  that  he  be  adawed  verrayly. 
Right  so  a  man,  that  long  hath  blynd  i-be, 
He  may  not  sodeynly  so  wel  i-se, 
First  whan  the  sight  is  newe  comen  agayn, 
As  he  that  hath  a  day  or  tuo  i-sayn. 
Til  that  your  sight  y-stablid  be  a  while, 


290  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ther  may  ful  many  a  sighte  yow  bigile.  10280 

Beth  war,  I  pray  yow,  for,  by  heven  king, 
Ful  many  man  wenith  for  to  se  a  thing, 
And  it  is  al  another  than  it  semeth  ; 
He  that  mysconceyveth  he  mysdemeth." 

And  with  that  word  sche  leep  doun  fro  the  tre. 
This  January  who  is  glad  but  he  ? 
He  kissith  hir,  and  clippith  hir  ful  ofte, 
And  on  hir  wombe  he  strokith  hir  ful  softe  ; 
And  to  his  paleys  horn  he  hath  hir  lad. 
Now,  goode  men,  I  pray  yow  to  be  glad.  10290 

Thus  endith  her  my  tale  of  Januarye, 
God  blesse  us,  and  his  moder  seinte  Marie  I 

THE  SQUYERE.S  PROLOGS. 

"  ET  !  Goddes  mercy  !  "  sayd  our  Hoste  tho, 
"  Now  such  a  wyf  I  pray  God  keep  me  fro. 
Lo,  whiche  sleightes  and  subtilitees 
In  woramen  ben  ;  for  ay  as  busy  as  bees 
Ben  thay  us  seely  men  for  to  desceyve, 
And  from  a  soth  ever  wol  thay  weyve. 
By  this  Marchaundes  tale  it  proveth  wel. 
But  douteles,  as  trewe  as  eny  steel  10300 

I  have  a  wyf,  though  that  sche  pore  be  ; 
But  of  hir  tonge  a  labbyng  schrewe  is  sche  ; 
And  yit  sche  hath  an  heep  of  vices  mo. 
Therof  no  fors  ;  let  alle  such  thinges  go. 
But  wite  ye  what  ?  in  counseil  be  it  seyd, 
Me  rewith  sore  I  am  unto  hir  teyd ; 
And  if  I  scholde  reken  every  vice, 
Which  that  sche  hath,  i-wis  I  were  to  nyce ; 
And  cause  why,  it  schuld  reported  be 
And  told  to  hir  of  som  of  this  meyne,  10810 

(Of  whom  it  needith  not  for  to  declare, 
Syn  wommen  connen  oute  such  chaffare) ; 
And  eek  my  witte  suffisith  nought  therto 
To  tellen  al  ;  wherfor  my  tale  is  do." 

"  Sir  Squier,  com  forth,  if  that  your  wille  be, 
And  say  us  a  tale  of  love,  for  certes  ye 
Connen  theron  as  moche  as  ony  man." 

"  Nay,  sire,"  quod  he  ;  "  but  I  wil  say  as  I  can 
With  herty  wil,  for  I  wil  not  rebelle 
Against  your  wille  ;  a  tale  wil  I  telle,  \  0320 

Have  me  excused  if  that  I  speke  amys  ; 
My  wil  is  good  ;  and  thereto  my  tale  is  this." 

10216.  of  love.    These  two  words  are  omitted  In  Ms.  Karl.,  but  they  »oea 
ceeewary  for  the  sense  and  metre. 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  291 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE. 

AT  Sarray,  in  the  lond  of  Tartary, 

Ther  dwelled  a  kyng  that  werryed  Russy, 

Thurgh  which  ther  deyed  many  a  doughty  man  ; 

This  nobil  kyng  was  cleped  Cambynskan, 

Wliioh  in  his  tyine  was  of  so  gret  renoun, 

That  ther  nas  nowher  in  no  regiouii 

So  excellent  a  lord  in  alle  thing  ; 

Him  lakked  nought  that  longed  to  a  kyng,  10330 

As  of  the  secte  of  which  that  he  was  born. 

He  kept  his  lawe  to  which  he  was  sworn, 

And  therto  he  was  hardy,  wys,  and  riche, 

And  pitous  and  just,  and  alway  y-liche, 

Both. of  his  word,  benign  and  honurable  ; 

Of  his  corage  as  eny  centre  stable  ; 

Yong,  freisch,  and  strong,  in  armes  desirous, 

As  eny  bachiler  of  al  his  hous. 

A  fair  person  he  was,  and  fortunat, 

And  kepte  so  wel  his  real  astat,  10340 

That  ther  was  nowher  such  a  ryal  man. 

This  noble  kyng,  this  Tartre,  this  Cambynskan, 

Hadde  ttio  sones  by  Eltheta  his  wyf, 

Of  which  the  eldest  highte  Algarsyf, 

That  other  was  i-cleped  Camballo. 

A  doughter  had  this  worthi  king  also, 

That  yongest  was,  and  highte  Canace  ; 

But  for  to  telle  yow  al  hir  beaute, 

It  lith  not  on  my  tonge,  ne  my  connyng, 

I  dar  nought  undertake  so  heigh  a  thing  ;  10350 

Myn  Englissh  eek  is  insufficient, 

It  moste  be  a  rethor  excellent 

The  Squyeres  Tale.  It  is  unknown  at  present  from  what  source  Chaucer 
derived  this  tale,  which  is  not  found  (as  far  as  I  am  aware)  in  any  otherform 
In  tte  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Chaucer  left 
It  unfinished.  It  may  be  observed  that  throughout  the  tale  the  name  of  thf 
Tartar  king  is  Cambynskan,  in  the  Ms.  Harl.  as  well  as  in  the  Lansdowne  an' 
jther  MSS.  It  is  almost  with  regret  that  we  give  up  the  form  of  the  n*n 
ttndered  classic  by  Milton,— 

Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 
Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 
That  own'd  the  virtuous  ring  of  gifts  ; 
And  of  the  wond'rous  horse  of  bras 
On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride. 

(II  Pcnseroto.) 

10324.  Russy.  The  Tartars  and  Russians  were  constantly  engaged  hi  ho» 
tilities  with  each  other  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  sixteenth  centuriea. 

10344.  Algarsnf.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  Algaryf,  and  in  the  next  line  San* 
ballo  for  Camlcillo,  which  are  probably  inero  errors  of  the  scribe. 


292  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  couth  his  colours  longyng  for  that  art, 
If  he  schold  hir  discry  ve  in  eny  part ; 
I  am  non  such,  I  mot  speke  as  I  can. 

And  so  bifel  it,  that  this  Cambynskan 
Hath  twenty  wynter  born  liis  dyadeuie ; 
As  he  was  wont  fro  yer  to  yer,  I  deme, 
He  leet  the  fest  of  his  nativite 

Don  cryen,  thurghout  Sarray  his  cite,  118C< 

The  last  Idus  of  March,  after  the  yeer. 
Phebus  the  sonne  was  joly  and  cleer, 
For  he  was  neigh  his  exaltacioun 
In  Martes  race,  and  in  his  uiansioun 
In  Aries,  the  colerik,  the  hote  signe. 
Ful  lusty  was  the  wedir  and  benigne, 
For  which  the  foules  agein  the  sonne  scheene, 
What  for  the  sesoun  and  for  the  yonge  greene, 
Ful  lowde  song  in  here  affecciouns  j 
Hem  seined  have  geten  hem  protecciouns  10370 

Agens  the  swerd  of  wynter  kene  and  cold. 
This  Cambynskan,  of  which  I  have  told, 
In  royal  vesture,  sittyng  on  his  deys 
With  dyadem,  ful  heigh  in  his  paleys  ; 
And  held  his  fest  solempne  and  so  riche, 
That  in  this  worlde  was  there  noon  it  liche. 
Of  which  if  I  schal  tellen  al  tharray, 
Than  wold  it  occupie  a  someres  day  ; 
And  eek  it  needith  nought  for  to  devyse 
At  every  cours  the  ordre  and  the  servyse.  10380 

I  wol  not  tellen  of  her  straunge  sewes, 
Ne  of  her  swanne3,  ne  here  heroun-sewes. 
Ek  in  that  lond,  as  tellen  knightes  olde, 
Ther  is  som  mete  that  is  ful  deynte  holde, 
That  in  this  lond  men  recch  of  it  but  smal ; 
Ther  is  no  man  it  may  reporten  al. 
I  wol  not  tarien  you,  for  it  is  pryine, 
And  for  it  is  no  fruyt,  but  los  of  tyme, 
Unto  my  purpos  I  wol  have  my  recours. 
That  so  bifelle  after  the  thvidde  cours,  10890 

Whil  that  this  kyng  sit  thus  in  his  nobleye, 
Herkyng  his  myiistrales  her  thinges  pleye 
Byforne  him  atte  boord  deliciously, 
In  atte  halle  dore  al  sodeynly 

10382.  swannes  .  . .  heroun-sewes.  It  IB  hardly  necessary  to  observe  that 
tteans  were  formerly  eaten  at  table,  and  considered  among  the  choicest  orn*. 
ments  of  the  festive  board.  Tyrwhitt  informs  us  that  at  the  iiithronizatioii  of 
Archbp.  Nevi),  6  Edward  IV.,  there  were  "  hercmshatees  iii.  c."  (Le/and,  Col- 
lect, vol.  vi.  2),  anil  that  at  another  fuast  in  1530,  we  read  of  "  1U  hearanatws. 
exeiy  one  I2d."  U'tck's  Uen.  Cur.  vol.  ii.  12.) 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  293 

Ther  coin  a  knight  upon  a  steed  of  bras, 

And  in  his  hond  a  brod  myrour  of  glas  ; 

Upon  his  thonib  he  had  of  gold  a  ryng, 

And  by  his  side  a  naked  swerd  hangyng  : 

And  up  he  rideth  to  the  heyghe  bord. 

In  al  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word,  10400 

For  mervayl  of  this  knight ;  him  to  byholde 

Ful  besily  they  wayten  yong  and  olde. 

Tliis  straunge  knight  that  cam  thus  sodeynly, 
Al  armed  sauf  his  heed  ful  richely, 
Salued  the  kyng  and  queen,  and  lordes  alle 
By  ordre,  as  they  seten  into  halle, 
With  so  haigh  reverens  and  observaunce, 
As  wel  in  speche  as  is  contynaunce, 
That  Graweyn  with  his  olde  curtesye, 
They"  he  were  oorne  agein  out  of  fayrye,  10410 

Ne  couthe  him  nought  amende  with  no  word. 
And  after  this,  biforn  the  highe  bord 
He  with  a  manly  vois  sayd  this  message, 
After  the  forme  used  in  his  langage, 
Withouten  vice  of  sillabil  or  letter. 
And  for  his  tale  schulde  seme  the  better, 
Aecordaunt  to  his  wordes  was  his  cheere, 
As  techeth  art  of  speche  hem  that  it  leere. 
Al  be  it  that  I  can  nat  sowne  his  style, 
Ne  can  nat  clymben  over  so  heigh  a  style,  10420 

Yit  say  I  this,  as  to  comun  entent, 
Thus  moche  amounteth  al  that  ever  he  ment, 
If  it  so  be  that  I  have  it  in  mynde. 

He  sayd  :  "  The  kyng  of  Arraby  arid  of  Ynde, 
My  liege  lord,  on  this  solempne  day 
Saluteth  you  as  he  best  can  or  may, 
And  sendeth  you,  in  honour  of  your  feste, 
By  me,  that  am  redy  at  al  his  heste, 
This  steede  of  bras,  that  esily  and  wel 
Can  in  the  space  of  o  day  naturel,  10430 

'This  is  to  say,  in  four  and  twenty  houres) 
Wher  so  yow  lust,  in  droughthe  or  in  schoures, 
Beren  your  body  into  every  place, 
To  which  your  herte  wilneth  for  to  pace, 
Withouten  wem  of  you,  thurgh  foul  and  fair. 
Or  if  you  lust  to  flee  as  heigh  in  thair 
As  doth  an  egle,  whan  him  list  to  sore, 
This  same  steede  schal  bere  you  evermore 
Withoute  harm,  til  ye  be  ther  yow  leste, 

10409.  Oaweyn.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  Ewen.    Gawevn  wai  celebrated  li 
medieval  romance  as  the  most  courteous  of  Arthur's  knights. 


294  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Though  that  ye  slepen  on  his  bak  or  reste),  10440 

And  tome  agein,  with  wrything  of  a  pyn. 

He  that  it  wrought,  he  cowthe  many  a  gyn  ; 

He  wayted  many  a  constellacioun, 

Er  he  had  do  this  operacioun, 

And  knew  ful  many  a  seal  and  many  a  bond. 

"  This  mirour  eek,  that  I  have  in  myn  hond, 
Hath  such  a  mighte,  that  men  may  in  it  see 
When  ther  schal  falle  eny  adversite 
Unto  your  regne,  or  to  your  self  also, 
And  openly,  who  is  your  frend  or  fo.  10450 

And  over  al  this,  if  eny  lady  bright 
Hath  set  her  hert  on  eny  maner  wight, 
If  he  be  fals,  sche  schal  his  tresoun  see, 
His  newe  love,  and  his  subtilite, 
So  openly,  that  ther  schal  nothing  hyde. 
Wherfor  ageiris  this  lusty  somer  tyde 
This  mirour  a,nd  this  ryng,  that  ye  may  see, 
He  hath  send  to  my  lady  Canacee, 
Your  excellente  doughter  that  is  heere. 

"The  vertu  of  this  ryng,  if  ye  wol  heere,  10460 

Is  this,  that  who  so  lust  it  for  to  were 
Upon  hir  thomb,  or  in  hir  purs  to  bere, 
Ther  is  no  foul  that  fleeth  under  the  heven, 
That  sche  ne  schal  understonden  his  Steven, 
And  know  his  menyng  openly  and  pleyn, 
And  answer  him  in  his  langage  ageyn  ; 
And  every  gras  that  groweth  upon  roote 
Sche  schal  eek  know,  to  whom  it  wol  do  boote, 
Al  be  his  woundes  never  so  deep  and  wyde.  10469 

"  This  naked  swerd,  that  hangeth  by  my  syde, 
Such  vertu  hath,  that  what  man  that  it  smyte, 
Thurghout  his  armur  it  wol  kerve  and  byte, 
Were  it  as  thikke  as  a  brauriched  ook  ; 
And  what  man  is  i- wounded  with  the  strook 
Schal  never  be  hool,  til  that  you  lust  of  grace 
To  strok  him  with  the  plat  in  thilke  place 
Ther  he  is  hurt ;  this  is  as  much  to  seyn, 
Ye  ruoote  with  the  platte  swerd  agein 
Stroke  him  in  the  wound,  and  it  wol  close. 
This  is  the  verray  soth  withouten  glose,  10480 

10445.  seal.  The  making  and  arrangement  of  seals  was  one  ol  the  impor- 
tant operations  of  medieval  magic,  and  treatises  oil  this  subject  are  found  in 
manuscripts.  One  of  thene  was  believed  to  have  been  compiled  by  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  in  the  desert.  A  copy  of  this  is  found  in  Ms.  Arurulel,No, 
21*5,  fol.  265,  which  commences  with  the  statement:  "In  nomine  Domini. 
Incipit.  liber  preciosua  et  secretus  sigillorum  quern  feceruut  iilii  Ituae!  in 
deMrto  secuiuium  uiotua  et  coisub  sideruiu."  &c 


TEE  SQUYERES  TALE.  295 


It  failleth  nought,  whil  it  is  in  your  hold." 
And  whan  this  knight  thus  had  his  tale  told, 

He  r:t  out  of  the  halle,  and  doun  he  light. 

His  steede,  which  that  schon  as  sonne  bright, 

Stant  in  the  court  as  stille  as  eny  stoon. 

This  knight  is  to  his  chain bre  lad  /inoon, 

Arid  is  unarmed,  and  to  mete  i-sett. 

This  presentz  ben  ful  richely  i-fett, 

This  is  to  sayn,  the  swerd  and  the  myrrour, 

And  born  anon  unto  the  highe  tour,  10490 

With  certein  officers  ordeynd  therfore ; 

And  unto  Canace  the  ryng  is  bore 

Solempnely,  ther  sche  syt  atte  table  , 

But  sikerly,  withouten  eny  fable, 

The  hors  of  bras,  that  may  nat  be  remewed, 

It  stant,  as  it  were  to  the  ground  i-glewed  ; 

Ther  may  no  man  out  of  the  place  it  dryve 

For  noon  engyn  of  wyndas  or  polyve  ; 

And  cause  why,  for  they  can  nought  the  craft, 

And  therfor  in  the  place  thei  have  it  laft,  10500 

Til  that  the  knight  hath  taught  hem  the  manere 

To  voyden  him,  as  ye  schul  after  heere. 

Greet  was  the  pres  that  swarmed  to  and  fro 

To  gauren  on  this  hors  that  stondeth  so  ; 

For  it  so  high  was,  and  so  brod  and  long, 

So  wel  proporcioned  to  be  strong, 

Right  as  it  were  a  steed  of  Lumbardye  ; 

Therto  so  horsly,  and  so  quyk  of  ye, 

As  if  a  gentil  Poyleys  courser  were  ; 

For  certes,  fro  his  tayl  unto  his  eere  10510 

Nature  rie  art  ne  couthe  him  noughte  amende 

In  no  degre,  as  al  the  poepel  wende. 

But  evermore  her  moste  wonder  was, 

How  that  it  couthe  goon,  and  was  of  bras  ; 

If  was  of  fayry,  as  the  poeple  semed. 

Diverse  peple  diversly  they  domed  ; 

As  many  hedes,  as  many  wittes  been. 

They  murmured,  as  doth  a  swarm  of  been, 

10498.  wyndas.    The  Harl.  MB.  reads  wyndyng. 

10605.  high.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  wijd. 

10509.  a  gentil  I'oy  leys  courser.  "A  horse  of  Apulia,  which  in  old  French 
was  usually  called  J'oille.  The  horses  of  that  country  were  much  esteemed. 
Ms.  Bcxl.  James  VI.  142.  Richard.  Archbp.  of  Armagh,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  soys,  in  praise  of  our  St.  Thomas,  '  quod  nee  inulns  Hi^pftnise.  nee 
dextrarins  Apnlitr,  nee  repedo  .^Ethiopia;,  nee  elephaiitus  Asi:i>,  nee  Camelus 
Syriae  hoc  asino  nostvo  Angliae  aptior  sive  audentior  inveniiur  ad  pra^lia.' 
He  had  bjfore  informed  his  audience,  that  TAomos,  Angliee,  idem  net  quod 
Thorn  Asinu.t.  There  is  a  patent  in  Uyiner,  2  K.  It.  iJe  Uextrariis  in  Lumbar- 
lift  emtndii."  —  Tyrwill. 


296  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  made  skiles  after  her  fantasies, 
Rehersyng  of  the  olde  poetries,  1052C 

And  seyden  it  was  i-like  the  Pagase, 
The  hors  that  hadde  wynges  for  to  fle, 
Or  elles  it  was  the  Grekissah  hers  Synon, 
That  broughte  Troye  to  destruccioun, 
As  men  may  in  the  olde  gestes  rede. 
'  Myn  hert,"  quod  oon,  "  is  evermore  in  drede, 
I  trow  som  men  of  armes  ben  therinne, 
That  schapen  hem  this  cite  for  to  wynne  ; 
It  were  good  that  such  thing  were  knowe." 
Another  rowned  to  his  felaw  lowe,  10530 

And  sayde  :  "  It  lyth,  for  it  is  rather  lik 
An  apparence  maad  by  soni  inagik, 
As  jogelours  pleyen  at  this  festes  grete." 
Of  sondry  thoughtes  thus  they  jangle  and  trete, 
As  lewed  peple  demeth  comunly 
Of  thinges  that  ben  maad  more  subtily 
Than  they  can  in  her  lewednes  comprehende, 
They  deeuien  gladly  to  the  badder  ende. 
And  som  of  hem  wondred  on  the  mirrour, 
That  born  was  up  into  the  maister  tour,  10640 

How  men  might  in  it  suche  thinges  se. 
Another  answerd,  and  sayd,  it  might  wel  be 
Naturelly  by  composiciouns 
Of  angels,  and  of  heigh  reflexiouns  ; 
And  sayde  that  in  Rome  was  such  oon. 
They  speeke  of  Alhazen  and  Vitilyon, 
And  Aristotle,  that  writen  in  her  lyves 
Of  queynte  myrrours  and  prospectyves, 
As  knowen  they  that  han  her  bokes  herd. 
And  other  folk  have  wondred  on  the  swerd,  'J0550 

That  wolde  passe  thorughout  every  thing  j 
And  fel  in  speche  of  Telophus  the  kyng, 
And  of  Achilles  for  his  queynte  spere, 
For  he  couthe  with  it  bothe  hele  and  dere, 

10521.  the  Pagase,  I.  e.  Pagasus.  Ill  the  margin  of  the  Harl.  Ms.  It  -§  ex 
plained  in  Latin,  i.  equus  peyaseus. 

10523.  Synon.  Sinon,  according  to  Grecian  story,  was  the  maker  of  the 
wooden  horse  by  means  of  which  Troy  was  finally  taken. 

10544.  heiyh.    Other  MSS.,  with  Tyrwhitt,  read"  slyhc,  or  xhiyh,  sly. 

10545.  in  Home.    The  erection  of  this  mirror  was  one  of  the  feats  of  the 
legendary  Virgil,  and  will  be  found  described  in  the  early  English  poem  of 
the  Seven  Sages. 

10546.  Alhazen  and  Vitilyon.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  Alceyt  for  Alhazen,  and 
lie  Lansd.  Ms.  Aloccn.    "  Alhazeni  et  Vitdlonli  Opticce  are  extant,  printed  at 
Basil.  1572.    The  first  is  supposed  by  his  editor  to  have  lived  about  A.L>.  1100, 
and  the  second  in  A.D.  1270." — Tyrwhitt. 

10552.  Telophug.  Telephus,  king  of  Mysia,  in  attempting  to  hinder  the 
Greek*  from  marching  through  hits  couiury  against  Troy,  wa«  wounded  by 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE. 


297 


Right  in  such  wise  as  men  may  with  the  swerd, 

Of  which  right  now  ye  have  your  selven  herd. 

They  speeken  of  sondry  hardyng  of  metal, 

And  speken  of  medicines  therwithal, 

And  how  and  whan  it  schulde  harded  be, 

Which  is  unknowe  algat  unto  me.  1C660 

Tlio  speeken  they  of  Canacees  ryng, 

And  seyden  alle,  that  such  a  wonder  thing 

Of  craft  of  rynges  herd  they  never  noon, 

Sauf  that  he  Moyses  and  kyng  Salamou 

lladden  a  name  of  connyng  in  such  art. 

Thus  seyen  the  peple,  and  drawen  hem  apart. 

But  natheles  som  seiden  that  it  was 

Wonder  thing  to  make  of  feme  aisschen  glas, 

Aruljyit  is  glas  nought  like  aisschen  of  feme, 

But  for  they  haa  i-knowen  it  so  feme  ;  10570 

Therfor  cesseth  her  janglyng  and  lier  wonder. 

As  sore  wondred  scui  of  cause  of  thoiider, 

On  ebbe  and  Hood,  on  gossomer,  arid  oil  luyst, 

Arid  on  alle  thing,  til  that  cause  is  wist. 

Thus  janglen  they,  and  demen  and  devyse, 

Til  that  the  kyng  gan  fro  his  bord  arise. 

Phebus  hath  left  the  angel  merydyonal, 
And  yit  asceridyiig  was  a  best  roial, 
The  gentil  Lyoun,  with  his  Aldryari, 
Whan  that  this  gentil  kyng,  this  Cambynskan,     10580 
Ros  fro  his  bord,  ther  as  he  sat  ful  hye  ; 
Biforn  him  goth  ful  lowde  menstralcye, 
Til  he  cam  to  his  chauibre  of  parementz, 

Achilles,  and  was  informed  by  the  oracle  that  his  wound  could  only  be  cured 

oy  being  touched  by  the  spear  which  had  made  it.   Whence  1'ropertius  says,— 

Mysus  el  Hiumoui;  juveuis  qui  cuspide  vulnus 

Senserat.  hoc  ipsa  cuspide  sensit  opem. 
And  OviQ,— 

Telephus  jeterna  consumptus  tsibe  perisset, 

Si  non  quso  nocuit  dextra  tulisset  oi>em. 

105G1.  Mosye.s  and  kyng  Saliimon.  These  personages,  especially  the  latter, 
had  a  high  reputation  (derived  apparently  frcm  the  Arabs)  iu  the  Middle 
Ages  for  their  skill  in  magic. 

105t>C.  and  drawen  hem  apart.  The  Harl.  MB.  reads,  the  peple  on  every 
part. 

19F7.  left  The  Hurl.  Ms.  reads  lost.  This  Ms.  has  in  several  instances 
lost  I  :c  left,  and  vice  versa. 

10.>79.  Aldryan,    The  Ilarl  Ms.  reads  Adryan. 

10583-  cttambre  of  pa.rem.entz.       "  Chambre  de  parement  is  translated   by 
Cotgrave,  the  presence-chamber  ;  and  Lit  department,  a  bod  of  state,     /'arc- 
ments  originally  siguilied  all  sorts  of  ornamental  furniture,  or  clothes,  froit 
portr,  Fr.  to  adorn.     See  ver.  2503,  and  Leg.  of  U.  W.  I>ido,  ver.  181. 
To  dauncin^  chambree  ful  of  paretneutes, 
Of  rii-he  beddes  and  of  pavenientea, 
Thin  Kneas  is  ledde  after  the  mete. 

The  Italians  have  the  same  expression.     1st.  d.  Cone.  Trident.  1.  Ill      II  Poo 
t»lice—  ritornato  alia  camera  de'  p<trmenti  co'  Cardinal!. "—  TyrwhiH, 


298  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Tlter  as  ther  were  divers  instrumentz, 
That  is  y-like  an  heven  for  to  heere. 

Now  dauncen  lusty  Venus  children  deere ; 
For  in  the  fissch  her  lady  sat  ful  heyghe, 
And  loketh  on  hem  with  a  frendly  eygbe. 
This  noble  kyng  is  set  upon  his  trone  ; 
This  straunge  knight  is  fet  to  him  ful  sone,  1 0590 

And  in  the  daunce  he  gan  with  Canace. 
Her  is  the  revel  and  the  jolyte, 
That  is  not  able  a  dul  man  to  devyse  ; 
He  most  have  knowe  love  and  his  servise, 
And  ben  a  festly  man,  as  froisch  as  May- 
That  schulde  you  devyse  such  array. 
Who  couthe  telle  you  the  forme  of  daunc*> 
So  uncouth,  and  so  freische  countinaunce, 
Such  subtil  lokyng  of  dissimilynges, 
For  drede  of  jalous  folk  apparceyvynges  ?  10600 

No  man  but  Launcolet,  and  he  is  deed. 
Therfore  I  passe  over  al  this  lustyheed. 
I  say  no  more,  but  in  this  jolynesse 
I  lete  hem,  til  men  to  soper  hem  dresse. 
The  styward  byt  the  spices  for  to  hye 
And  eek  the  wyn,  in  al  this  inelodye  ; 
Thes  usschers  and  thes  squyers  ben  agon, 
The  spices  and  the  wyn  is  come  anoon  ; 
They  eet  and  drank,  and  whan  this  had  an  ende, 
Unto  the  temple,  as  resoun  was,  they  wende  ;        10610 
The  servise  doon,  they  soupen  al  by  day. 
What  needeth  you  to  rehersen  her  array  ? 
Ech  man  wot  wel,  that  a  kynges  feste 
Hath  plente,  to  the  lest  and  to  the  meste, 
And  deyntees  mo  than  ben  in  my  knowyng. 
At  after  souper  goth  this  noble  kyng 
To  see  this  hors  of  bras,  with  al  his  route 
Of  lordes  and  of  ladyes  him  aboute. 
Swich  wondryng  was  ther  on  this  hors  of  bras, 
That  seth  this  grete  siege  of  Troye  was,  10620 

Ther  as  men  wondrid  on  an  hors  also, 
Ne  was  ther  such  a  wondryng  as  was  tho. 
But  fynally  the  kyng  asked  the  knight 
The  vertu  of  this  courser,  and  the  might, 
And  prayd  him  telleii  of  his  governaunce. 
The  hors  anoon  gan  for  to  trippe  and  daunce, 
Whan  that  the  knight  leyd  hand  upon  his  rayne, 

10687.  in  thejistcfi,  1.  e.  in  the  zodiacal  sign  piscet-    See  before,  the  notoo* 
».  W84. 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  299 


And  sayde,  "  Sir,  thcr  is  nomore  to  sayne, 

But  whan  you  lust  to  ryde  any  where, 

Ye  inoote  trille  a  pyn,  stant  in  his  ere,  10630 

Which  I  schal  telle  you  betweii  us  two, 

Ye  moste  nempne  him  to  what  place  also, 

Or  what  countre  you  luste  for  to  ryde. 

And  whan  ye  come  ther  you  lust  abyde, 

Bid  him  descende,  and  trille  another  pynne 

(For  therm  lith  theffet  of  al  the  gynne) 

And  he  wol  doun  descend  and  do  your  wille. 

And  in  that  place  he  wol  abyde  stille  ; 

Though  al  the  world  had  the  contrary  swore, 

He  schal  nat  thennes  be  i-throwe  ne  bore.  1064x1 

Or  if  you  lust  to  bid  him  thennes  goon, 

Trille  this  pyn,  and  he  wol  vanyssh  anoon 

Out  of  the  sight  of  every  maner  wight, 

And  come  agein,  be  it  by  day  or  night, 

Whan  that  you  lust  to  clepen  him  agayn 

In  such  a  gyse,  as  I  schal  yow  sayn 

Betwixe  you  and  me,  and  therfor  soone, 

Byd  whan  you  lust,  ther  nys  noinor  to  doone." 

Enformed  whan  the  kyng  was  of  the  knight, 

And  had  conceyved  in  his  wit  aright  10650 

The  maner  and  the  forme  of  al  this  thing, 

Ful  glad  and  blith,  this  noble  doughty  kyng 

Llepeyryng  to  his  revel,  as  biforn, 

The  bridel  is  unto  the  tour  i-born, 

And  kept  among  his  jewels  leef  and  deere  ; 

The  hors  vanyscht,  I  not  in  what  manere, 

Out  of  her  sight,  ye  get  nomore  of  me  ; 

But  thus  I  lete  him  in  his  jolite 

This  Cambinskan  his  lordes  festeyng, 

Til  wel  neigh  the  day  bigan  to  spryng.  10660 

Incipit  secunda  pars. 

The  norice  of  digestioun,  the  sleep, 
Gaii  to  him  wynk,  and  bad  of  him  take  keep, 
That  moche  mete  and  labour  wol  have  his  rest, 
And  with  a  galpyng  mouth  hem  alle  he  keste, 
And  sayd,  that  it  was  tytue  to  lye  doun, 

10663.  moche  mete.  This  reading  is  taken  from  the  Laned.  Me.  The  llarl. 
MB.  has  that  mirthe  and  labour,  the  word  mert/ii  being  perhaps  a  misreading 
tor  mete  Tyrwhitt  reads  mochel  drinke,  and  observes,  —  "So  MSB.  C.  1 
ULA..  Jii  Ms.  A.  it  in,  That  mirttie  and  labour,  in  Ask.  1.  '2.  Thog  after  mochf 
labour.  In  several  other  MSS.  and  editt.  C.  1.  2,  That  moche  mete  and  labour. 
We  must  aearcb  further,  I  apprehend,  for  the  true  meaning." 


300  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

For  blood  was  in  his  donrinacioun : 

"  Cherischeth  blood,  natures  frend,"  quod  he. 

They  thankyn  him  galpyng,  by  two  and  thre  ; 

And  every  wight  gan  drawe  him  to  his  rest, 

As  sleep  hem  bad,  they  took  it  for  the  best.  10670 

Here  dremes  schul  not  now  be  told  for  me  ; 

Ful  were  here  heedes  of  fumosite, 

That  causeth  drein,  of  which  ther  is  no  charge. 

They  sleepen  til  it  was  prime  large, 

The  inoste  part,  but  it  were  Canace  ; 

Sche  was  ful  mesurable,  as  wommen  be. 

For  of  hir  fader  had  sche  take  hir  leve 

To  go  to  reste,  soon  after  it  was  eve  ; 

Hir  luste  not  appalled  for  to  be, 

Ne  on  the  morwe  unfestly  for  to  se ;  10680 

And  kept  hir  firste  sleep,  and  then  awook. 

For  such  a  joye  sche  in  hir  herte  took, 

Bothe  of  hir  queynte  ryng,  and  hir  myrrour 

That  twenty  t'yme  chaunged  hire  colour  ; 

And  in  hire  sleep,  right  for  the  impressioun 

Of  hir  myrrour,  sche  had  a  visioun. 

Wherfor,  or  that  the  sonne  up  gan  glyde, 

Sche  cleped  upon  hir  maistresse  beside, 

And  sayde,  that  hire  luste  for  to  ryse. 

These  olde  wornmen,  that  ben  gladly  wyse,  10690 

As  is  here  maystresse,  answered  her  anoon, 

And  sayd,  "  Madame,  whider  wold  ye  goon 

Thus  erly  ?  for  folk  ben  alle  in  reste." 

"  I  wil."  quod  sche,  "  aryse,  for  me  leste 

Ne  lenger  for  to  slepe,  and  walke  aboute." 

Hir  maistres  clepeth  wommen  a  gret  route, 

And  up  they  risen,  a  ten  other  a  twelve. 

Up  ryseth  fresshe  Canace  hir  selve, 

As  rody  and  bright,  as  is  the  yonge  sonne 

That  in  the  ram  is  ten  degrees  i-ronne  ;  10700 

No  heiher  was  he,  whan  sche  redy  was ; 

And  forth  sche  walked  esily  a  pas, 

Arayed  after  the  lusty  sesoun  soote 

Lightly  for  to  play,  and  walke  on  foote, 

Nought  but  with  fy ve  or  six  of  hir  meyne  ; 

And  in  a  trench  fer  in  the  park  goth  sche. 

The  vapour,  which  that  of  the  erthe  glod, 

10GG6.  blood.  According  to  the  old  physicians,  blood  was  in  domination 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  night  and  the  earlier  part  of  the  day.  Tryw  hitt 
quotes  from  the  lib.  Galeno  auscr.  de  natura,  &c.,  torn.  v.  p.  327  :  Sanguis 
doniinatur  horis  scptoin  ab  hoia  noctis  noiia  ad  hor.im  did  tertiaru. 

10700.  ten.  This  la  the  reading  jf  Uie  H;vrl.  and  Lansd.  JN!ss.  Tyrwhitt 
•eads./oure  deyree». 


TEE  SQUYERES  TALE.  301 


Maketh  the  sonne  seme  rody  and  brod  ; 

But  natheles,  it  was  so  fair  a  Right, 

That  it  made  alle  here  hertes  for  to  light,  10710 

What  for  the  sesoun,  what  for  the  rnorriyng 

Arid  for  the  foules  that  sche  herde  syng. 

For  right  anoon  sche  wiste  what  they  merit 

Right  by  here  song,  and  knew  al  here  entent. 

The  knotte,  why  that  every  tale  is  told, 
If  that  '.t  be  taryed  til  lust  be  cold 
Of  h?.a.  .'.hat  han  it  after  herkned  yore, 
The  savour  passeth  ever  lenger  the  more, 
For  fulsomnes  of  the  prolixite  ; 

And  by  this  same  resoun  thinketh  me  10720 

I  schulde  to  the  knotte  condescende, 
And  make  of  hir  walkynge  sone  an  ende. 

Amyddes  a  tree  for-druye,  as  whit  as  chalk, 
As  Canace  was  pleyyng  in  hir  walk, 
There  sat  a  faukoun  over  hir  heed  ful  hye, 
That  with  a  pitous  vois  bigan  to  crye, 
That  al  the  woode  resowned  of  hire  cry, 
And  beten  hadde  sche  hir  self  so  pitously 
With  bothe  hir  wynges,  to  the  reede  blood 
Ran  endelong  the  tree,  ther  as  sche  stood.  10780 

And  ever  in  oon  sche  cried  and  sche  schryght, 
And  with  hir  bek  hir  selve  so  sche  pight, 
That  ther  nys  tigre  non  ne  cruel  beste, 
That  dwelleth  eyther  in  wood,  or  in  forests, 
That  nold  han  wept,  if  that  he  wepen  cowde, 
For  sorw  of  hir,  sche  schright  alwey  so  lowde. 
For  ther  nas  never  yit  no  man  on  lyve, 
If  that  he  couthe  a  faukoun  wel  discrive, 
That  herd  of  such  another  of  fairnesse 
As  wel  of  plumage,  as  of  gentillesse  10710 

Of  schap,  of  al  that  might  i-rekened  be. 
A  faukoun  peregryn  than  semed  sche 
Of  fremde  lond  ;  and  ever  as  sche  stood, 
Sche  swowned  now  and  now  for  lak  of  blood, 
Til  wel  neigh  is  sche  fallen  fro  the  tre. 
Thi?  faite  kynges  doughter,  Canace, 
That  on  hir  fynger  bar  the  queynte  ryng, 
Thurgh  which  sche  understood  wel  every  thing 
That  eny  foul  may  in  his  lydne  sayn, 

10742.  a  /aukotm  peregryn.  "  This  species  of  falcon  is  thus  described  In 
U  e  Tresor  de  llruntt  Latin,  p.  i.  ch.  JJcS  Fauc&ns,  Ms.  Reg.  19,  G.  x.  '  \A 
gi  conde  lignie  est  fancons,  que  horn  apele  pelerins,  par  ce  quenus  ne  tiove 
si  it  ni.ains  est  pris  autresi  come  en  pelerinaye,  etest  mult  legiers  a  noriir,  et 
ti  ult  cortuis,  et  vaillans,  et  do  bono  maniere.'  Chaucer  adds,  tliat  this  falooo 
»  W  ulj'remde,  oiSremeil,  land,  from  a  foreign  country."—  Tyiiohilt. 


302  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  couthe  answer  him  in  his  lydne  agayn,  10750 

Hath  understonde  what  this  faukoun  seyde, 

And  wel  neigh  almost  for  the  rewthe  sche  deyde. 

And  to  the  tree  sche  got  ful  hastily, 

And  on  the  faukoun  loketh  pitously, 

And  held  hir  lappe  abrod,  for  wel  sche  wist 

The  faukcun  rnoste  falle  fro  the  twist, 

\Vhan  that  she  swowned  next,  for  lak  of  blood. 

A  long  while  to  wayten  hir  sche  stood, 

Til  atte  last  sche  spak  in  this  manere 

Unto  the  hauk,  as  ye  schul  after  heere.  10760 

"  What  is  the  cause,  if  it  be  for  to  telle, 

That  ye  ben  in  that  furyalle  peyne  of  helle  ?  " 

Quod  Canace  unto  this  hauk  above; 

"  Is  this  for  sorwe  of  deth,  or  elles  love  ? 

For  as  I  trowe,  this  ben  causes  tuo 

That  causen  most  a  gentil  herte  wo. 

Of  other  harm  it  needeth  nought  to  speke, 

For  ye  your  self  upon  your  self  awreke  ; 

Which  preveth  wel,  that  either  ire  or  drede 

Mote  ben  enchesoun  of  your  cruel  dede,  10770 

Sith  that  I  see  noon  other  wight  you  chace. 

For  love  of  God,  so  doth  your  selve  grace. 

Or  what  may  ben  your  helpe  ?  for  west  ner  eet 

Ne  saugh  I  never  er  now  no  bryd  ne  beste, 

That  ferde  with  him  self  so  pitously. 

Ye  sle  me  with  your  sorwe  so  verrily, 

I  have  of  you  so  gret  compassioun. 

For  Goddes  love,  come  fro  the  tree  adoun  ; 

And  as  I  am  a  kynges  doughter  trewe, 

If  that  I  verrayly  the  cause  knewe  107831 

Of  your  disese,  if  it  lay  in  niy  might, 

I  wold  ameiiden  it,  or  that  it  wer  night, 

Als  wisly  help  me  grete  God  of  kynde. 

And  herbes  schal  1  right  y-nowe  fynde, 

To  Lelen  with  your  hurtes  hastyly." 

Tho  schright  this  faukoun  more  pitously 

Than  ever  sche  did,  arid  fil  to  ground  aiioon, 

And  lay  aswowne,  deed  as  eny  stoon, 

Til  Canace  hath  in  hir  lap  y-take, 

Unto  that  tyine  sche  gau  of  swowrie  slake  ;  1079€ 

And  after  that  sche  gan  of  swown  abreyde, 

Right  in  hir  haukes  lydrie  thus  sche  sayde. 

"  That  pite  renneth  sone  in  gentil  hert 

(Felyng  his  similitude  in  peyries  smerte) 

10782.  vr  that  it  wer  night.     The  Harl.  Ms.  reads,  \f  that  I  miyht ;  wbicfc 
app«»rs  to  be  too  nearly  a  repetition  of  the  conclusion  of  the  preceding  Un«. 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  308 


Is  proved  alday,  as  men  may  see, 
As  wel  by  werk  as  by  auctorito; 
For  gentil  herte  kepeth  gentillesse. 
I  see  wel,  that  ye  have  on  my  distresse 
Compassioun,  my  faire  Canace, 
Of  verray  wommanly  benignite, 

That  nature  in  your  principles  hath  set.  .08QC 

But  for  noon  hope  for  to  fare  the  bet, 
But  for  to  obeye  unto  your  herte  fre, 
And  for  to  make  othere  war  by  me, 
As  by  the  whelp  chastised  is  the  lyoun  ; 
And  for  that  cause  and  that  conclusioun, 
Whiles  that  I  have  a  leyser  and  a  space, 
Myn  harm  I  wil  confessen  er  I  pace." 
And  whil  sche  ever  of  hir  sorwe  tolde, 
That  other  wept,  as  sche  to  water  wolde, 
Til  that  the  faucoun  bad  hir  to  be  stille,  10810 

And  with  a  sighhe  thus  sche  sayd  hir  tille. 
"  Ther  1  was  bred,  (alias  that  ilke  day  !) 
And  fostred  iii  a  roch  of  marble  gray 
So  tendrely,  that  nothing  eyled  me, 
I  ne  wiste  not  what  was  adversite, 
Til  I  couthe  flee  ful  heigh  under  the  sky. 
Tho  dwelled  a  tercelet  me  faste  by, 
That  semed  welle  of  alle  gentillesse  ; 
Al  were  he  ful  of  tresoun  and  falsnesse, 
It  was  i-wrapped  under  humble  cheere,  10820 

And  under  heewe  of  trouthe  in  such  manaro, 
Under  plesauiice,  arid  under  besy  peyne, 
That  no  wight  wende  that  he  couthe  feyne, 
So  deep  in  greyn  he  deyed  his  colours. 
Right  as  a  serpent  hut  him  under  floures 
Til  he  may  see  his  tyme  for  to  byte  ; 
Right  so  this  god  of  loves  ypocrite 
Doth  so  his  sermonys  and  his  observaunce, 
Under  subtil  colour  and  aqueyntaunce,  ' 
That  sowneth  unto  gentilesse  of  love.  t'JfcJJf 

As  in  a  tombe  is  al  the  faire  above, 
And  under  is  the  corps,  whiche  that  ye  wot ; 
Such  was  this  ipocrite,  bothe  cold  and  hot, 
And  in  this  wise  he  served  his  entent, 

10827.  god  of  loves  ypocrite.  This  Is  Tyrwhitt's  reading.  Thellarl.  MB.  ban, 
this  god  oj  love,  this  ypocryte,  which  appears  not  to  give  so  good  a  meaning. 
The  Lansd.  MB.  rends,  this  god  of  love  ipocrite. 

108'_'8.  In  the  Land.  MB.,  with  which  Tyrwhitt  agrees,  these  two  I!D<H 
stand  Uiua,— 

L)othe  fo  hie  ccremon'iio  and  obeioeaiices. 
And  kupod  iu  sombUut  al  his  observances, 


804  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That,  sauf  the  feend,  noon  wiste  what  he  raent. 

Til  he  so  long  had  weped  and  compleyned, 

And  many  a  yeer  his  service  to  me  feyned, 

Til  that  myn  hert,  to  pitous  and  to  nyce, 

Al  innocent  of  his  crouned  malice, 

F  >r-fered  of  his  deth,  as  thoughte  me,  10840 

T  pon  his  othes  and  his  sewerte, 

Graunted  him  love,  on  this  condicioun, 

That  evermc  myn  honour  and  myn  renoun 

Were  saved,  both  prj'vy  and  apert ; 

Tha"1  'R  to  sayn,  that,  after  his  desert, 

I  gt     ;im  al  myn  hert  and  al  my  thought 

(Gou  woot,  and  he,  that  other  weye  nought), 

And  took  his  hert  in  chaunge  of  myn  for  ay. 

But  soth  is  sayd,  go  sithens  many  a  day, 

A  trew  wight  and  a  theef  thenketh  nought  oon.    10850 

An  I  when  he  saugh  the  thyngso  fer  i-goon, 

That  I  had  graunted  him  fully  my  love, 

In  such  a  wyse  as  I  have  sayd  above, 

And  geven  him  my  trewe  hert  as  fre 

As  he  swor  that  he  gaf  his  herte  to  me, 

Anon  this  tigre,  ful  of  doublenesse, 

Fil  on  his  knees  with  so  gret  devoutenesse, 

With  so  high  reverence,  as  by  his  chere, 

So  lyk  a  gentil  lover  of  manere, 

So  ravysched,  as  it  semede,  for  joye,  10860 

That  never  Jason,  ne  Parys  of  Troye, 

Jason  ?  certes,  ne  noon  other  man, 

Sith  Lameth  was,  that  altherfirst  bygan 

To  loven  two,  as  writen  folk  biforn, 

Ne  never  sith  the  firste  man  was  born, 

Ne  couthe  man  by  twenty  thousand  part 

Contrefete  the  sophemes  of  his  art ; 

Ne  were  worthy  to  unbokel  his  galoche, 

Ther  doublenes  of  feynyng  schold  approche, 

Ne  so  cou'the  thankyn  a  wight,  as  he  did  me.         10870 

His  maner  was  an  heven  for  to  see 

Te  eny  womman,  were  sche  never  so  wys  ; 

Sc  peynteth  he  and  kembeth  poynt  devys, 

As  wel  his  wordes,  as  his  continaunce. 

Aril  I  so  loved  him  for  his  obeisaunce, 

And  for  the  trouthe  I  denied  in  his  herte, 

That  if  so  were  that  eny  tiling  him  smerte, 

Al  wore  it  never  so  litel,  and  I  it  wist, 

Me  thought  I  felte  deth  at  myn  hert  twist. 

And  schartly,  so  fcrforth  this  thing  is  went,  10S80 

That  my  wil  was  his  willes  instrument ; 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  305 

This  is  to  say,  my  wille  obeied  his  wille 

In  alle  trnng,  as  fer  as  resoun  fille, 

Kepyng  the  boundes  of  my  worschip  ever  ; 

Ne  never  had  I  thing  so  leef,  ne  lever, 

As  him,  God  wool,  r.e  never  schal  nomo. 

This  laste  lenger  than  a  yeer  or  two, 

That  I  supposed  of  him  nought  but  good. 

But  fynally,  atte  laste  thus  it  stood; 

That  fortune  wolde  that  he  moste  twynne  10990 

Out  of  the  place  which  thai  I  was  inne. 

Wher  me  was  wo,  it  is  no  questioun  ; 

I  can  nat  make  of  it  descripcioun. 

For  c  thing  dar  I  telle  boldely, 

I  know  what  is  the  peyne  of  deth,  therby, 

Which  harm  I  felt,  for  he  ne  mighte  byleve. 

So  on  a  day  of  me  he  took  his  ieve, 

So  sorwful  eek,  that  I  went  verrayly, 

That  he  had  feled  als  moche  harm  as  I,  10900 

Whan  that  1  herd  him  speke,  and  saugli  his  hewe. 

But  natheles,  I  thought  he  was  so  trewe, 

And  eek  that  he  schulde  repeire  ageyn 

Withinne  a  litel  while,  soth  to  seyn, 

And  resoun  wold  eek  that  he  moste  go 

For  his  honour,  as  oft  happeth  so. 

Than  I  made  vertu  of  necessite, 

And  took  it  wel,  sethens  it  moste  be. 

As  I  best  might,  I  had  fro  him  my  sorwe, 

And  took  him  by  the  hand,  seint  Johan  to  borwe, 

And  sayde  thus  :  '  Lo,  I  am  youres  al,  10911 

Beth  such  as  I  have  be  to  you  and  schal.' 

What  he  answerd,  it  needeth  nat  to  reherse  ; 

Who  can  say  bet  than  he,  who  can  do  werse  ? 

Whan  he  hath  al  wel  sayd,  than  hath  he  doon. 

Therfor  bihoveth  him  a  ful  long  spoon, 

That  schal  ete  with  a  feend  ;  thus  herd  I  say. 

So  atte  last  he  moste  forth  his  way, 

And  forth  he  fieeth,  til  he  cam.  ther  him  leste. 

Whan  it  cam  him  to  purpos  for  to  reste,  1092C 

ITCW6.  as  oft  happeth  so.  In  tlio  Harl.  Ms.  these  words  have  been  ondtt*d 
by  a  blunder  of  the  scribe.  The  lacune  is  supplied  £io:r.  the  Laned.  Ms. 

10916.  <i  fid  Icniy  spoon.  Tlus  singular  proverb  appears  to  be  of  consider- 
able antiquity.  It  ociy^rs  more  frequently  in  the  sixteenth  century  ;  among 
ft  £i'\v  proverbs  of  this  date  printed  in  the  Jleliq.  Antig.  vol.  i.  p.  208,  one  is, 
"  He  h.ith  need  of  a  lung  speone  that  eateth  with  the  devill."  So  in  Shakes- 
peare, Com.  of  Errors,  iv.  o,  "  Marry,  he  must  have  a  long  spoon  that  must 
e»t  with  the  devil ;  "  and  Tempest,  ii.  2,  Stephanobavs,  "  >fercy  !  mercy  !  tliu 
i*  a  de\  il,  and  no  monster  :  I  will  leave  him  ;  I  have  no  long  spoon." 

1UU20.  tkilke  U'jct.     "  Boethius,  1.  iii.  met.  2  : 

Kepetunt  proprios  quaeque  recursus, 
liedituiiue  suo  sLngula  gaudent." 


306  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

I  trow  he  hadde  thilke  text  in  mynde, 

That  all  thing  repeyryng  to  his  kynde 

Crladeth  himself;  thus  seyn  men,  as  I  gesse  : 

Men  loven  of  kynde  newefangilnesse, 

As  briddes  doon,  that  men  in  cage  feede. 

For  theigh  thou  night  and  day  take  of  hem  heede 

And  straw  her  cage  faire  and  soft  as  silk, 

And  geve  hem  sugre,  hony,  breed,  and  rnylk, 

Yet  right  anoon  as  that  his  dore  is  uppe, 

He  with  his  feet  wil  sporne  doun  his  cuppe,  10930 

And  to  the  wode  he  wil,  and  worrnes  ete  ; 

So  newefangel  be  thei  of  her  mete, 

And  loven  non  leveres  of  propre  kinde  ; 

No  gentiles  of  blood  ne  may  hem  binde. 

So  ferde  this  tercelet,  alas  the  day  ! 

Though  he  were  gentil  born,  and  fresh,  and  gay, 

And  goodly  for  to  see,  and  humble,  and  free, 

He  saw  upon  a  tyme  a  kite  fie, 

And  sodeynly  he  loved  this  kite  soo, 

That  al  his  love  is  clene  fro  me  goo  ;  10940 

And  hath  his  trouthe  falsed  in  this  wise. 

Thus  hathe  the  kite  my  love  in  hir  servise, 

And  I  am  lorne  withoute  remedy." 

And  with  that  worde  this  faukon  gan  to  cry, 

And  sowneth  eft  in  Canacees  barme. 

Gret  was  the  sorwe  for  that  haukes  harine, 

That  Canace  and  alle  hire  wommen  made  ; 

They  nysten  howe  they  myght  the  faukon  gla.de. 

But  Canace  horn  bereth  hir  in  hir  lappe, 

And  softely  in  piastres  gan  hir  wrappe,  10950 

Ther  as  sche  with  hir  bek  hadde  hurt  hir  se'  '« 

Now  can  nought  Canace  bot  herbes  delve 

Out  of  the  grounde,  and  maken  salves  newe 

Of  herbes  precious  and  fyne  of  he  we, 

To  helen  with  this  hauk  ;  fro  day  to  night 

Sche  doth  hir  besines,  and  al  hir  might. 

And  by  hir  beddes  heed  sche  made  a  mewe, 

And  covered  it  with  veluettes  blewe, 

In  signe  of  trewthe  that  is  in  womman  seene  ; 

And  al  withoute  the  mewe  is  peynted  greene,         10960 

In  whiche  were  peynted  alle  this  false  foules, 

As  ben  this  tideves,  teroelettes,  and  owles  ; 

10930.  A  leaf  or  two  have  unfortunately  been  lost  from  the  Harleian  M» 
after  this  line,  and  1  am  obliged  to  take  the  remainder  of  the  tale  from  Xyr 
wliitt,  collated  with  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

10933.  non  leveres— no  rations.    Tyrwhitt  has,  loven  novtltces. 

10968    blewe.    Blue  was  the  color  of  truth. 


THE  SQUYERES  TALE.  307 


And  pies,  on  hem  for  to  crye  and  chide, 
Right  for  despite  were  peynted  hem  byside. 

Thus  lete  I  Canace  hir  hank  kepyng. 
I  wil  nomore  nowe  speken  of  hir  rynge, 
Til  it  come  eft  to  purpos  for  to  seyn, 
How  that  this  faukon  gat  hir  love  ageyn 
Repontaunt,  as  the  story  telleth  us, 
By  mediacioun  of  Camballus  10970 

The  kinges  sone,  of  which  that  I  yow  tolde  ; 
But  hennesforth  I  wil  my  proces  holde 
To  speken  of  aventures,  and  of  batailes, 
That  yit  was  never  herd  so  grete  mervailes. 
First  wil  I  telle  yow  of  Cambynskan, 
That  in  his  time  many  a  cite  wan  j 
And  after  wil  I  speke  of  Algarsif, 
How  taat  he  wan  Theodora  to  his  wif. 
For  -T^aom  ful  ofte  in  grete  peril  he  was, 
Ne  had  he  ben  holpen  by  the  hors  of  bras.  10980 

And  after  wil  I  speke  of  Camballo, 
That  fought  in  listes  with  the  bretheren  tuo 
For  Canace,  er  that  he  might  hir  wynne, 

And  ther  I  left  I  wol  ageyn  beginne. 

****** 

10963-4.  I  have  followed  Tyrwhitt  in  transposing  these  two  line*,  which 
itand  in  the  Lausd.  arid  other  MSS.— 

Right  for  despite  were  peynted  hem  bytMe, 
And  pies,  on  hem  for  to  crye  and  chid*1 

10977-8  "  are  also  transposed.  According  to  the  common  arrangement, 
old  Cambuscan  is  to  win  Theodora  to  his  wif,  and  we  are  not  told  what  is  to 
be  the  object  of  Algarsif's  adventures."—  Tyrwhitt. 

10981.  qf  Camballo.    "  Ms.  A.  reads  Caballo.    But  that  is  not  my  only  rea- 
son for  suspecting  a  mistake  in  tlris  name.      It  seems  clear  from  the  con- 
text, that  the  person  here  intended  is  not  a  brother,  but  a  lover,  of  Canace, 
Who  fought  in  listes  with  the  brethren  two 
For  Canace,  or  that  he  might  hire  winne. 

The  brethren  two  are  obviously  the  two  brethren  of  Canace,  who  have  been 
m«  Qtioned  above.  Algarsif  and  Camballo.  In  Ms.  Ask.  1.  2,  H  is,  hir  brethren 
tv»;  which  wotildput  the  matter  out  of  all  doubt.  Camballo  could  not  tight 
with  himself  Again,  if  this  Camballo  is  supposed  to  be  the  brother  of  Ca- 
nace, and  to  fight  in  defence  of  her  with  some  two  brethren,  who  might  be 
suitors  to  her,  according  to  Spencer's  fiction,  he  could  not  properly  be  said 
to  vi«u«  his  sister  when  he  only  prevented  others  from  winning  her.  The 
outlint  therefore  of  the  unfinished  part  of  this  tale,  according  to  uiy  idea, 
is  nearly  this  the  conclusion  of  the  story  of  the  Faucon, 

By  mediation  of  Camballus, 

with  the  help  of  the  ring;  the  conquests  of  Cambuskan  ;  the  winning  of 
Theodora  by  Algarsif,  with  the  assistance  of  the  horse  of  brass ;  and  the  mar- 
riage of  Canace  to  some  knight,  who  was  first  obliged  to  fight  for  her  with  her 
two  brethren  ;  a  method  of  courtship  very  consonant  to  the  spirit  of  ancient 
chivalry." — Tyrwhitt. 

10984.  In  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  in  which  the  Squyeres  Tale  is  followed  by  the 
tale  of  the  Wyf  of  Bathe,  the  following  lines  are  added  as  a  sort  of  conclusion 
to  the  former : — 

Bot  I  wil  here  now  maake  a  knotte 
To  the  time  it  come  next  to  my  lotte  ; 


308  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  PROLOQK. 

"  IN  faith,  Squier,  thou  hast  the  wel  y-quit 
And  gentilly,  I  preise  wel  thy  wit," 
Qaod  the  Frankeleyu,  "considering  thin  youthe, 
So  felingly  thou  spekest,  sire,  I  aloue  the, 
As  to  my  dome,  ther  is  non  that  is  here, 
Of  eloquence  that  schal  be  thy  pere,  10990 

If  that  thou  live  ;  God  geve  thee  goode  chance, 
And  in  vertue  send  the  continaunce, 
For  of  thy  speking  I  have  gret  deinte. 
1  have  a  sone,  arid  by  the  Trinite 
It  were  me  lever  than  twenty  pound  worth  lond, 
Though  it  right  now  were  fallen  in  my  hond, 
He  were  a  man  of  swiche  discretion, 
As  that  ye  ben  ;  fie  on  possession, 
But  if  a  man  be  vertuous  withal. 

I  have  my  sone  snibbed,  and  yet  shal,  1  luOO 

For  he  to  vertue  listeth  not  to  entend, 
But  for  to  play  at  dis,  and  to  dispend, 
And  lese  all  that  he  hath,  is  his  usage ; 
And  he  had  lever  talken  with  a  page, 
Than  to  commune  with  any  gentil  wight, 
Ther  he  might  leren  gentillesse  aright." 

"  Straw  for  you  gentillesse  I  "  quod  our  hoste. 
"  What  ?  Frankeleyn,  parde,  sire,  wel  thou  wost 
That  eehe  of  you  mote  tellen  at  the  lest 
A  tale  or  two,  or  breken  his  behest."  11010 

"  That  know  I  wel,  sire,"  quod  the  Frankeleyn, 
"  I  pray  you  haveth  me  not  in  disdein, 
Though  I  to  this  man  speke  a  word  or  two." 
"  Tell  on  thy  tale,  withouten  wordes  mo." 
"  Gladly,  sire  hoste,"  quod  he,  "  I  wol  obeye 
Unto  your  wille  \  now  herkeneth  what  1  seye  ; 
I  wol  you  not  contrarien  in  no  wise, 
As  fer  as  that  my  wittes  may  suffice. 
I  pray  to  God  that  it  may  plesen  you, 
That  wot  I  wel  that  it  is  good  y-now.  11020 

"  This  olde  gentil  Bretons  in  here  daies 

For  here  be  felaweg  behinde  and  hepe  treulye, 
That  wolde  talke  fill  besilye, 
And  have  her  sporte  as  wele  as  I, 
And  the  dale  passeth  faft  cvrtanly. 
Therefore,  oste,  taketh  nowe  goode  heede 
'Who  schalle  next  telle,  and  late  him  epeede. 

10965.  All  from  this  line  to  1.  11020  is  omitted  in  the  LandBdowne  aiidothei 
Vie.,  and  I  have  given  it  chiefly  from  Tyrwhitt. 

11021.  gentil  JSrcttms.  The  Breton  "  laies"  hure  alluded  to  were  very  fa- 
mous in  the  middle  ages  ;  but  they  involve  a  question  of  literary  hibtory  at 
»on»iderable  difliculty,  into  which  we  caimot  enter  on  the  present  occasion. 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  309 


Of  divers  aventures  maden  laies, 

Rimyden  in  her  firste  Breton  tonge ; 

Whiche  laies  witli  liere  instrumeutes  thei  songe, 

Other  elles  redden  hem  for  her  plesance, 

And  one  of  hem  have  I  in  remembrance, 

Which  I  schal  seie  with  goode  wil  as  I  can. 

But,  sires,  because  I  am  a  burel  man, 

At  my  beginnyng  first  I  you  beseche 

Haveth  me  excused  of  me  rude  speche. 

I  lerned  never  rethorik  certeine  ; 

Thinge  that  I  speke,  it  most  be  bare  and  pleiue  ; 

I  slept  never  on  the  mount  of  Parnaso, 

Ne  lerned  Marcus,  Tullius,  ne  Cithero. 

Colours  ne  know  I  non,  withouten  drede, 

But  suche  colours  as  growen  in  the  mede, 

Or  eHas  suche  as  men  deye  with  or  peinte  j 

Colours  of  rethorik  ben  to  me  queynte ; 

My  spirit  feleth  nought  of  suche  matiere, 

But  if  you  luste  my  tale  schal  ye  here."  11040 

THE   FRAXKELEYXES  TALE. 

IN  Armorik,  that  clepid  is  Bretaigne. 
Ther  was  a  knyght,  that  loved  and  dede  his  peyne 
To  serven  a  lady  in  his  beste  wise  ; 
And  many  a  labour,  many  a  grete  emprise 
He  for  his  lady  wrouht,  or  sche  were  wonne  ; 
For  sche  was  on  the  fairest  under  sonne, 
And  eke  therto  com  of  so  hihe  kinrede, 
That  weJe  unnethes  dorst  this  knyht  for  drede 
Tel  hir  his  woo,  his  peine,  and  his  distrosse. 
But  at  the  last,  sche  for  his  worthinesse,  1 1050 

And  namely  for  his  meke  obeissance, 
llath  such  a  pite  caught  of  his  penance, 
That  prively  sche  fel  of  his  accorde 
To  take  him  for  hir  housbonde  and  hir  lorde 
(Of  suche  lordschip  as  men  han  over  hire  wyvee)  j 
And,  for  to  lede  the  more  in  blisse  her  Jyves, 
Of  liis  fre  wil  he  swore  hire  as  a  knyht, 
That  never  in  his  wil  be  day  ne  nyht 
Ne  scholde  he  upon  him  take  no  maistrie 

J1034.  H  farms,  Tuliius,  ne  Cithero.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  I.amlsdown* 
Me-,  and  I  arn  inclined  to  tLink  it  may  bo  the  right  one,  Chaucer's  intention 
beljic  to  exhibit  tho  Frankeley  tie's  ignorance  of  classical  literature. 

The  Frankeleynes  Tale.  The  lay,  from  which  Chaucer  informs  us  that  he 
took  tins  tale,  appears  to  bo  entirely  lost ;  but  Boccaccio,  who  made  up  lu'i 
Decameron  from  the  popular  fabliaux  and  tales  of  the  time,  has  preserved  » 
version  of  this  story  in  that  work.  Day  x.  num.  5,  as  well  as  iu  the  fifth  boofc 
Of  bis  I'hilocopo 


310  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ageines  hir  wille,  ne  kythe  hire  jelousye,  11000 

But  hire  obeie,  and  folowe  hire  wille  in  al. 

As  any  lover  to  his  lady  schal ; 

Save  that  the  name  of  sovereignete 

That  nolde  he  have  for  seharne  of  his  degre 

Sche  thonketh  him,  and  with  ful  grete  humblesse 

Sche  seide  ;  "  Sir,  seththe  ye  of  youre  gentillesse 

Ye  prefer  me  to  have  als  large  a  reyne, 

Ne  wold  nevere  God  betwix  us  tweyne, 

As  in  my  gulte,  were  eytber  werre  or  strif. 

Sir,  I  wil  be  youre  humble  trewe  wif,  11070 

Have  here  my  trouthe,  til  that  myn  herte  bruste." 

Thus  ben  they  bothe  in  quiete  and  in  ruste. 

For  o  thinge.  sires,  saufly  dar  I  seie, 

That  frendes  everyche  other  motte  obeie, 

If  thei  wil  Ibnge  liolde  compagne. 

Love  wil  nouht  buen  constreyned  by  maistre. 

Whan  maistre  commeth,  the  god  of  love  anon 

Beteth  his  winges,  and  fare  wel,  he  is  gon. 

Love  is  a  thinge,  as  any  spirit,  fre. 

Wommen  of  kinde  desiren  liberte,  11080 

And  nouht  to  be  constreined  as  a  thral ; 

And  so  doth  men,  if  I  the  sothe  saie  schal. 

Loke  who  that  is  most  paeient  in  love, 

He  is  at  his  avantage  al  above. 

Paciens  is  an  hihe  vertue  certein, 

For  it  venquisheth,  as  this  clerkes  sein, 

Thinges  that  rigour  never  sholde  atteine. 

For  every  worde  men  may  nouht  chide  ne  pleine. 

Lerneth  to  suffer,  or  elles,  so  most  I  gon. 

Ye  schul  it  lerne  whether  ye  wol  or  non.  11090 

For  in  this  world  certein  no  wight  ther  is, 

That  he  ne  doth  or  seyth  som  time  amis. 

Ire-,  or  sikenesse,  or  constellacioun, 

Wyn,  wo,  or  chaunginge  of  complexioun, 

Oauseth  ful  oft  to  don  amys  or  speken. 

On  every  wronge  men  maye  nouht  be  wreken  j 

After  the  time  most  be  temperance 

To  every  wight  that  can  of  governance. 

A.nd  therfor  hath  this  worthy  wise  knight 

To  liven  in  ese  suffrance  hir  behight ;  11100 

And  sche  to  him  ful  wisely  gan  to  s\vere, 

That  nevere  schold  ther  be  defaute  in  hire. 

Here  may  men  seen  an  humble  wise  accorde ; 

Thus  hath  sche  take  hire  servant  and  hir  lorde, 

Servant  in  love,  and  lorde  in  mariage. 

Than  was  he  bothe  in  lordeschipe  and  servage  ? 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  311 

Servage  ?  nay,  but  in  lordeschip  al  above, 

Sethen  he  hath  bothe  his  lady  and  his  love ; 

His  lady  certes,  and  his  wif  also, 

The  which  that  law  of  love  accordeth  to.  11110 

And  whan  he  was  in  this  prosperite, 

Home  with  his  wif  he  goth  to  his  centre, 

Nouht  fer  fro  Penmarke,  ther  his  dwellinge  was, 

Wher  as  he  leveth  in  blisse  and  in  solas. 

Who  couthe  telle,  but  he  had  wedded  be, 
The  joye,  the  ese,  and  the  prosperita, 
That  is  betwix  an  housborid  and  his  wif  ? 
A  yere  and  more  lasteth  this  blisful  lif, 
Til  that  this  knight,  of  which  I  spak  of  thus, 
That  of  CaiiTud  was  cleped  Arviragus,  11120 

Schope  him  to  gori  and  dwelle  a  yere  or  tweyne 
In  Erfgelond,  that  cleped  eke  was  Bretayne, 
To  seke  in  armes  worschipe  and  honour, 
(For  al  his  lust  he  set  in  suche  labour)  ; 
And  dwelleth  there  tuo  yere  ;  the  boke  seith  thus. 

Now  will  I  stint  of  this  Arviragus, 
And  speken  I  wil  of  Dorigen  his  wif, 
That  loveth  hir  husbond  as  hire  hertes  lif. 
For  his  absence  wepeth  sche  and  siketh, 
As  don  this  noble  wives  whan  hem  liketh  ;  11130 

Sche  morneth,  waketh,  waileth,  fasteth,  pleyneth  ; 
Desire  of  his  presence  hir  so  distreineth, 
That  al  this  wide  world  sche  set  at  nouht. 
Hire  frendes,  which  that  knewe  hir  hevy  thouht, 
Comforten  hire  in  al  that  ever  thei  may  ; 
Thei  prechen  hire,  thei  tellen  hire  nyht  and  day, 
That  causeles  sche  sleth  hir  self,  alas  ! 
And  every  comfort  possible  in  this  cas 
Thei  don  to  hire,  with  al  here  busiriesse, 
And  al  to  make  hire  leve  hire  hevynesse.  11140 

By  proces,  as  ye  knowen  everychone, 
Men  mowe  so  longe  graven  in  a  stone, 
Til  some  figure  therinne  emprinted  be  ; 
So  longe  have  thei  comforted  hire,  that  sche 
Receyved  hath,  by  hope  and  by  resoun, 
The  emprintinge  of  hire  consolaciouu, 
Thorugh  which  hire  grete  sorwe  gan  assuage  ; 
Sche  may  not  alway  duren  in  suche  rage. 
And  eke  Arviragus,  in  al  this  care. 

11113.  Penmarke.  Penmark  ia  on  the  western  coast  of  Britany,  to«twoea 
Breet  and  L'Orient. 

11120.  Cairrud.  So  Tyrwbitt  gives  the  name,  but  ho  does  not,  inform  u* 
whero  the  place  is  situated.  In  me  Lausd.  MB.  it  is  called  A'y/imf. 


312  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Hath  sent  his  lettres  home  of  his  welfare,  11150 

Arid  that  he  wolde  come  hastily  ageyn. 

Or  elles  had  this  sorwe  hire  herte  sleyn. 

Hire  frendes  sauh  hire  sorwe  gau  to  slake, 

And  preiden  hire  on  knees,  for  Q-oddes  sake. 

To  come  and  romen  in  here  companye, 

Away  to  driven  hire  derke  fantasie  ; 

And  finally  sche  graunted  that  request, 

For  wel  sche  sauh  that  it  was  for  the  best. 

Now  stode  hir  castle  faste  by  the  see, 
And  often  with  hire  frendes  walked  sche;  1 1 1  (10 

Kir  to  disporten  on  the  bank  an  nine, 
Wher  as  sche  many  a  schip  and  barge  sihe, 
Sailinge  her  cours,  where  as  hem  liste  to  go. 
But  yit  was  that  a  parcel  of  hir  wo, 
For  to  hir  selve  ful  oft,  "  alas  !  "  seid  sche, 
"  Is  ther  no  schip,  of  so  many  as  I  se, 
Wil  bringen  home  my  lorde  ?  than  were  myn  herte 
Al  warisshed  of  this  bitter  peine  smerte." 

Another  time  wold  sche  sitte  and  thiiike, 
And  kast  his  eye  dounward  fro  the  brinke  ;  11170 

But  whan  sche  sawh  the  grisly  rokkes  blake, 
For  verray  fere  so  wolde  hire  herte  qwake, 
That  on  hir  feet  sche  myhte  nouht  hir  sustene. 
Than  wolde  sche  sit  adoun  upon  the  grene, 
And  pitously  into  the  see  biholde, 
And  seyn  right  thus,  with  careful  sikes  colde. 
"  Kterne  God,  that  thorugh  thy  purveance 
Ledest  this  world  by  certein  governance, 
In  idel;  as  men  sein,  ye  nothinge  make, 
But,  lord,  this  grisly  fendely  rockes  blake,  11180 

That  semen  rather  a  foule  confusioun 
Of  werke,  than  any  faire  creacioun 
Of  suche  a  parfit  wise  God  and  stable, 
Why  han  ye  wrought  this  werk  ULresonable  ? 
For  by  this  werke,  southe,  northe,  este,  ne  west, 
Ther  nis  i  fostred  man,  ne  brid,  ne  best ; 
It  doth  no  good,  to  my  wit,  but  anoyeth. 
See  ye  nouht,  lord,  how  mankind  it  destroyeth  ? 
An  hundred  thousand  bodies  of  mankinde 
Han  rokkes  slein,  al  be  they  nought  in  mynde  ;     11 190 
Which  mankinde  is  so  faire  parte  of  thy  werke. 
Thou  madest  it  like  to  thyn  owen  merke 
Than,  semeth  it,  ye  had  a  gret  cherte 
Toward  mankinde  ;  but  how  than  may  it  be, 
That  ye  suche  menes  make  it  to  destroyen  ? 
Which  menes  doth  no  good,  but  ever  anoyen 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  318 


I  woot  wei,  clerkes  woln  sein  as  hem  lest 

By  argumeritz,  that  al  is  for  the  best, 

Though  I  ne  can  the  causes  nought  y-knowe ; 

But  thilke  God  that  maad  the  wind  to  blowe,        11200 

As  kepe  my  lord,  this  is  my  coriclusioun  ; 

To  clerkes  lete  I  al  disputisoun : 

Hut  wolde  God,  that  al  this  rokkes  blake 

Were  sonkeii  into  helle  for  his  sake  I 

This  rokkes  slee  myn  herte  for  the  fere." 

Thus  wold  sche  say  with  many  a  pitous  tere. 

llire  frendes  sawe  that  it  nas  no  disport 
To  romen  by  the  see,  but  discomfort, 
And  schope  hem  for  to  pleien  som where  elles, 
They  leden  hire  by  rivers  and  by  welles,  11210 

And  eke  in  other  places  delitables  ; 
They-dauncen  and  they  play  at  ches  and  tables 
So  on  a  day,  right  in  the  morwe  tide, 
Unto  a  gardeyn  that  was  ther  beside, 
In  which  that  they  had  made  her  ordinance 
Of  vitaile,  and  of  other  purveance, 
They  gon  and  plaie  hem  al  the  longe  day ; 
And  this  was  on  the  sixte  morwe  of  May, 
Which  May  had  peinted  with  his  softe  schoures 
This  gardeyn  ful  of  leves  and  floures :  11220 

And  craft  of  mannes  hond  so  curiously 
Arrayed  had  this  gardeyn  trewely, 
That  never  was  ther  gardeyn  of  suche  pris. 
But  if  it  were  the  verray  paradis. 
The  odour  of  floures  and  the  fresshe  siht, 
Wold  han  y-maked  any  herte  light 
That  ever  was  born,  but  if  to  gret  sikenesse 
Or  to  gret  sorwe  held  it  in  distresse, 
So  ful  it  was  of  beaute  and  plesaunce. 
Arid  after  dinner  gan  thay  to  daunce  11230 

Arid  singe  also,  sauf  Dorigeri  alone, 
Which  made  alway  hire  compleynt  and  hire  mone, 
For  sche  ne  sawh  him  on  the  daunce  go, 
That  was  hir  housboiid,  and  hire  love  also ; 
But  na*heles  sche  moste  hir  time  abide, 
And  with  good  hope  lete  hire  sorwe  slide, 

Upon  this  daunce,  amonges  othere  men, 
Daimced  a  squire  before  Dorigen, 
That  frescher  was  and  jolier  of  array, 
As  to  my  dome,  than  is  the  inoneth  of  May.  11240 

He  singeth  and  daunseth  passing  any  man, 
That  is  or  was  siththe  that  the  world  began  ; 
Therwith  be  was   »*  men  schuld  him  deprive. 


314  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


On  of  the  beste  faringe  men  on  live, 
Yonge,  strong,  riht  virtuous,  and  riche,  and  wise, 
And  wel  beloved,  and  holden  in  gret  prise. 
And  schortly,  if  the  soth  I  tellen  schal, 
Unweting  of  this  Dorigen  at  al, 
This  lusty  squier,  servant  to  Venus, 
Which  that  y-cleped  was  Aurilius,  11250 

Had  loved  hire  best  of  any  creature 
Two  yere  and  more,  as  was  his  adventure  ; 
But  never  dorst  he  tellen  hire  his  grevance, 
Withouten  cuppe  he  drank  al  his  penance. 
He  was  dispeired,  nothing  dorst  he  seye, 
Sauf  in  his  songes  somwhat  wolde  he  wreye 
His  woo,  as  in  a  general  compleyning ; 
He  said,  he  loved,  and  was  beloved  nothing. 
Of  suche  matier  made  he  many  layes, 
Songes,  compleyntes,  roundelets,  virelayes;  11260 

How  that  he  dorste  not  his  sorwe  telle, 
But  languissheth  as  doth  a  fuyr  in  helle  ; 
And  deie  he  must,  he  seid,  as  did  Ekko 
For  Narcisus,  that  dorst  nought  telle  hir  wo. 
In  other  maner  than  ye  here  me  seye, 
.     Ne  dorst  he  nouht  to  hire  his  wo  bewreye, 
Sauf  that  paraventure  som  time  at  daunces, 
Ther  yonge  folk  kepen  her  observaunces, 
It  may  wel  be  he  loked  on  hir  face 
In  suche  a  wise,  as  man  that  axeth  grace,  11270 

But  nothing  wiste,  sche  of  his  entent. 
Natheles  it  happed,  er  they  thennes  went, 
Because  that  he  was  hire  neighebour, 
And  was  a  man  of  worschipe  and  honour, 
And  had  y-knowen  him  oft  times  yore, 
Thei  felle  in  speche,  and  forth  ay  more  and  more 
Unto  his  purpos  drown  Aurilius  ; 
And  whan  he  sawh  bus  time,  he  seide  thus. 
"  Madame,"  quod  he,  "  by  God,  that  this  world  made, 
So  that  I  wist  it  might  your  herte  glade,  11280 

I  wolde  that  day,  that  youre  Arviragus 
Went  over  see,  that  I  Aurilius 
Had  went  ther  I  scholde  never  come  agein  ; 
For  wel  I  wot  my  servise  is  in  vein, 
My  guerdon  nys  but  bresting  of  myn  herte. 
Madame,  reweth  upon  my  peines  smerte, 
For  with  a  word  ye  may  me  sle  or  save. 

11264.  Narcisus.  This  classic  personage  WM  known  popularly  of  the  mid 
die  age«.  from  the  circumstance  of  bis  having  been  mr.do  the  subject  of  > 
French  fablinu  or  metrical  etory. 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  315 

Here  at  youre  feet  God  wold  that  1  were  grave  I 

I  ne  have  as  now  no  leiser  more  to  seye ; 

Have  inercy,  swete,  or  ye  wol  do  me  deye."  11290 

Sche  gan  to  loke  upon  Aurilius  ; 
"  Is  this  your  wil,"  quod  sche,  "  and  say  ye  thus  ? 
Never  erst,"  quod  sche,  "  ne  wist  I  what  ye  nient  ; 
But  now,  Aurilie,  I  know  your  entent. 
But  thilke  God,  that  gave  me  soule  and  lif, 
Ne  schal  I  never  ben  untrewe  wif 
In  word  ne  werk,  as  fer  as  I  have  witte, 
I  wil  ben  his  to  whom  that  I  am  knitte. 
Take  this  for  final  answer  as  of  me." 
But  after  that  in  play  thus  seide  sche  ;  11300 

"  Aurilie,"  quod  sche,  "  by  hihe  God  above, 
Yit  wil  I  graunte  you  to  be  your  love 
(Sin  I  yow  see  so  pitously  compleyne), 
Loke,  what  day  that  endelong  Breteigne 
Ye  reinewe  al  the  rokkes,  stoii  by  ston, 
That  they  ne  letten  schip  ne  bote  to  gon, 
I  say,  whan  ye  have  maad  this  cost  so  clene 
Of  rokkes,  that  ther  nys  no  ston  y-sene, 
Than  wol  I  love  yow  best  of  any  man, 
Have  here  niy  trouthe,  in  al  that  ever  I  can  ;          11810 
For  wel  I  wot  that  that  schal  never  betide. 
Let  suche  folie  out  of  youre  herte  glide. 
What  deyrite  scholde  a  man  have  in  his  lif, 
For  to  go  love  another  marines  wif, 
That  hath  her  body  whan  that  ever  him  liketh  ?  " 
Aurilius  ful  often  sore  siketh  ; 
"  Is  ther  non  other  grace  in  you  ?  "  quod  he. 
"  No,  by  that  lord,"  quod  sche,  "  that  niaked  me." 
Wo  was  Aurilie  whan  that  he  this  herde, 
And  with  a  sorweful  herte  he  thus  answerde.          1132C 
"  Madame,"  quod  he,  "  this  were  an  impossible. 
Than  moste  I  deie  of  sodeyn  deth  horrible." 
And  with  that  word  he  turned  him  anon. 

Tho  come  hir  other  frendes  many  on, 
And  in  the  alleyes  romed  up  and  doun, 
And  nothing  wist  of  this  coriclusioun, 
But  sodeynly  began  to  revel  iiewe, 
Til  that  the  brighte  sonne  had  lost  his  hewe, 
For  the  orizont  had  reft  the  sonne  his  liht 
(This  is  as  much  to  sayn  as  it  was  nyht);  HMO 

And  home  thei  gon  in  joye  aud  solas ; 
Sauf  only  wrecche  Aurilius,  alas  I 
He  to  his  hous  is  gon  with  sorweful  herte. 
He  saith  he  may  not  from  his  deth  asterte. 


816  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Him  seineth,  that  he  felt  his  herte  colde. 

Up  to  the  heven  his  handes  gan  he  holde, 

Anc.  on  his  knees  bare  he  set  him  doun, 

And  in  his  raving  seid  his  orisoun. 

For  verray  wo  out  of  his  witte  he  braide, 

He  nyst  nouht  what  he  spak,  but  thus  he  scide  ;    11340 

With  pitous  herte  his  pleynt  hath  he  begonne 

Unto  the  goddes,  and  first  unto  the  sonne. 

He  seid,  "  Apollo,  God  and  governour 

Of  every  plante,  herbe,  tre,  and  flour, 

That  givest  after  thy  declinacioun 

To  eche  of  hem  his  tyme  and  sesoun, 

As  that  thin  herbergh  chaungeth  low  and  hihe  ; 

Lord  Phebus,  cast  thy  inerciable  eye 

On  wrecche  Aurilie,  which  that  am  for-lorne. 

Lo,  lord,  my  lady  hath  my  deth  y-sworne  11350 

Withouten  gilt,  but  thy  benignite 

Upon  my  dedly  herte  have  some  pite. 

For  wel  I  wot,  lord  Phebus,  if  you  lest, 

Ye  may  me  helpen,  sauf  my  lady,  best. 

Now  voucheth  sauf,  that  I  may  you  devise 

Bow  that  I  may  be  holpeand  in  what  wise. 

Your  blisful  suster,  Lucina  the  schene, 

That  of  the  see  is  chief  goddes  and  qwene  ; — 

Though  Neptunus  have  deite  in  the  see, 

Yit  emperes  aboven  him  is  sche  ;  11360 

Ye  knowe  wel,  lord,  that  right  as  hir  desire 

Is  to  be  quiked  and  lihted  of  your  fire, 

For  which  sche  folwith  yow  ful  besily, 

Right  so  the  see  desireth  naturelly 

To  folwen  hir,  as  sche  that  is  goddesse 

Both  in  the  see  and  rivers  more  and  lesse. 

Wherfor,  lord  Phebus,  this  is  my  request, 

Do  this  miracle,  or  do  myn  herte  brest  j 

That  now  next  at  this  opposicioun, 

Which  in  the  signe  schal  be  of  the  Lyoun,  11370 

As  preyeth  hire  so  grete  a  flood  to  bringe, 

That  five  fathome  at  the  lest  it  overspringe 

The  hihest  rokke  in  Armorik  Bretaine, 

And  let  this  flod  enduren  yeres  twaine  ; 

Than  certes  to  my  lady  may  I  say, 

Holdeth  your  hest,  the  rokkes  ben  away. 

Lord  Phebus,  this  miracle  doth  for  me, 

Prey  hire  sche  go  no  faster  cours  than  ye  ; 

I  sey  this,  preyeth  your  suster  that  sche  go 

No  faster  cours  than  ye  this  yeres  tuo  ;  11380 

Than  schal  sche  even  be  at  ful  alway, 


THE  FRANKELEYNE&  TALE.  317 


And  spring-flood  lasten  bothe  night  and  day. 

And  but  sche  vouchesauf  in  suuhe  manere 

To  graunten  me  my  sovereigne  lady  dere, 

Prey  hir  to  sinken  every  rok  adoun 

Into  hir  owen  darke  regioun 

Under  the  grounde,  ther  Pluto  duelleth  inne, 

Or  nevermo  sche.l  I  my  lady  wynne. 

Thy  temple  in  Delphos  wil  I  barfote  seke  ; 

Lord  Phebus,  se  the  teres  on  my  cheke,  11390 

And  on  my  peyrie  have  some  compassioun." 

And  with  that  word  in  sorwe  he  fel  adoun, 

And  long  time  he  lay  forth  in  a  traunce. 

His  brother,  which  that  knew  of  his  penaunce, 

Up  cauht  him,  and  to  bed  he  hath  him  brouht. 

Dispeired  in  this  turment  and  this  thouht, 

Let  I  this  woful  creature  lye, 

Chese  he  for  me  whether  he  wol  leve  or  deye. 
Arviragus  with  h-le  and  grete  honour 

(As  he  that  was  oi  chevalrie  the  flour)  11400 

Is  cornen  home,  and  other  worthy  men. 

O,  blisful  art  thoxi  now,  thou  Dorigen, 

That  hast  thy  lusty  housbond  in  thine  armee, 

The  fressche  knight,  the  worthy  man  of  armes, 

That  loveth  the,  as  his  owen  hertes  lif  ; 

Nothing  list  him  to  be  imaginatif, 

If  any  wight  had  spoke,  while  he  was  oute, 

To  hire  of  love  ;  he  had  of  that  no  doute ; 

He  nouht  entendeth  to  no  suche  matere, 

But  daunceth,  justeth,  and  maketh  mery  ehere.  11410 

Axxd  thus  in  joye  and  blisse  I  let  hem  dwelle, 

And  of  the  sike  Aurilius  wol  I  telle. 

In  langour  and  in  turment  furius 

Two  yere  and  more  lay  wrecche  Aurilius, 

Er  any  foot  on  erthe  he  mighte  gon  ; 

Ne  comfort  in  this  time  had  he  non, 

Sauf  of  his  brother,  which  that  was  a  clerk. 

He  knew  of  al  this  wo  and  al  this  werk  ; 

For  to  non  other  creature  certein 

01  this  matere  he  dorste  no  word  seyn  ;  11420 

Under  his  brest  he  bar  it  more  secre 

Than  ever  dede  PaTiiphilus  for  Galathe. 

11422.  I'amphilusfor  GalatM.   The  allusion  ie  to  a  popular  medieval  poem 
.fcmmonly  known  by  the  name  of  Pamphilus,  in  which  a  person  of  this  n»ro« 
jives  the'hihtory  of  "his  am<>ur  with  Galatea,  and  which  commeiict-i  wit-h  tb« 
Following  lines  (conveying  the  idea  alluded  to  by  Chaucer),— 
Vulneror  et  clausum  porto  sub  pectore  teluci, 

Crcseit  et  asfidue  platia  dolorqxie  inihi  ; 
Et  fcrientis  adhuc  non  audeo  <licere  noniftu 
Nee  sinit  asiiectua  plag»  vidtre  euo»- 


318  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


His  brest  was  hole  withouten  for  to  sene, 

But  in  his  herte  ay  was  the  arwe  kene  ; 

And  wel  ye  wote  that  of  a  sursanure 

In  surgerie  ful  perilous  is  the  cure, 

But  men  myght  touch  the  arwe  or  come  therby. 

His  brother  wepeth  and  weyleth  prively, 

Til  at  the  last  him  fel  in  remembraunce, 

That  whiles  he  was  in  Orleaunce  in  Fraunce,         11480 

As  yonge  clerkes,  that  ben  likerous 

To  reden  artes  that  ben  curious, 

Seken  in  every  halke  and  every  herne 

Particulere  sciences  for  to  lerne, 

He  him  remembreth,  that  upon  a  day 

At  Orleaunce  in  studie  a  boke  he  seye 

Of  magik  naturel,  which  his  felaw, 

That  was  that  time  a  bacheler  of  law, 

Al  were  he  ther  to  lerne  another  craft, 

Had  prively  upon  his  desk  y-laft ;  11440 

Which  book  ppak  moche  of  operaciouns 

Touchinge  the  eight  and  twenty  mansiouns 

That  longen  to  the  mone,  and  suche  folie 

As  in  oure  days  nys  not  worth  a  flye  ; 

For  holy  cherches  feith,  in  oure  byleve, 

Ne  suffreth  non  illusioun  us  to  greve. 

And  whan  this  boke  was  in  remembraunco, 

Anon  for  joye  his  herte  gan  to  daunce, 

And  to  him  self  he  seide  prively  ; 

"  My  brother  schal  be  warisshed  hastely  ;  11450 

For  I  am  siker  that  ther  be  sciences, 

By  which  men  maken  divers  apparenses 

Such  as  this  subtil  tregetoures  pleyn. 

For  ofte  at  festes  have  I  wel  herd  seyn, 

That  tregetoures,  within  an  halle  large, 

Have  made  come  in  a  water  and  a  barge, 

And  in  the  halle  rowen  up  Nnd  doun. 

Some  time  hath  semed  come  a  grim  lyoun  ; 

Arid  some  time  floures  springe  as  in  a  mede  ; 

8om  time  a  vine,  and  grapes  white  and  rede  ;         1  i460 

8om  time  a  castel  al  of  lime  and  ston, 

And  whan  hem  liketh  voideth  it  anon  ; 

Thus  semeth  it  to  every  inannes  sight. 

Now  than  conclude  I  thus,  if  that  I  might 

At  Orleaunce  som  olde  felaw  finde, 

That  hath  this  moues  mansions  in  inynde, 

11430.  Orleawicc  m  Fraunce.  There  was  a  celebrated  and  very  anciertt 
univer-uv  at  Orlean?,  which  fell  into  disrepute  as  the  university  of  Paris  bo 
c*me  famous  ;  and  the  rivalry  probaMy  led  to  the  imputation  that  the  occuJt 
iciences  were  cultivated  at  Orleans. 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  319 


Or  other  magik  naturel  above, 

He  scholde  wel  make  my  brother  have  his  love. 

For  with  an  apparence  a  clerk  may  make 

To  marines  sight,  that  all**  the  rokkes  blake  11470 

Of  Breteigne  were  y-voided  everichon, 

And  schippes  by  the  brinke  comen  and  gon, 

And  in  suche  forme  endure  a  day  or  tuo  ; 

Than  were  my  brother  warisshed  of  his  wo, 

Than  most  sche  nedes  holden  hire  behest, 

Or  elles  he  schal  schame  hire  at  the  lest." 

What  schold  1  make  a  lenger  talt  of  this  ? 

Unto  his  brothers  bedde  comen  he  is, 

And  suche  comfort  he  gaf  him,  for  to  gon 

To  Orleaunce,  that  he  up  stert  anoL.  11480 

And  QJI  his  way  forth- ward  than  is  L  e  fare, 

In  hope  for  to  ben  lissed  of  his  care. 

Whan  they  were  come  almost  to  that  "ate, 

But  if  it  were  a  tuo  furlong  or  thre, 

A  yonge  clerke  roming  by  himself  they  luette, 

Which  that  in  Latine  thriftily  hem  grett*-. 

And  after  that  he  seyd  a  wonder  thinge  ; 

"  I  know,"  quod  he,  "  the  cause  of  your  cc  mynge." 

And  er  they  forther  any  foote  went, 

He  told  hem  al  that  was  in  her  eritent.  11490 

This  Breton  clerk  him  asked  of  felawes, 

The  which  he  had  y-knowen  in  olde  dawes ; 

And  he  answered  him  that  they  dede  were, 

For  which  he  wept  ful  often  many  a  tere. 

Doun  of  his  hors  Aurilius  light  anon, 
And  forth  with  this  uiagicien  is  he  gon 
Home  to  his  hous,  and  made  him  wel  at  ese ; 
Hem  lacked  no  vitaile  that  might  hern  plese. 
So  wel  arraied  hous  as  ther  was  on, 

Aurilius  in  his  lif  saw  never  non.  11000 

He  sche  wed  him,  er  they  went  to  soupere, 
Forestes,  parkes  ful  of  wilde  dere. 
Ther  saw  he  hartes  with  her  homes  hee, 
The  gretest  that  were  ever  seen  with  eye. 
He  saw  of  hem  an  hundred  slain  with  houndes. 
And  soni  with  arwes  blede  of  bitter  woundes. 
He  saw,  whan  voided  were  the  wilde  dere, 
Thise  faukoners  upon  a  faire  rivere, 
That  with  hir  haukes  han  the  heron  slein. 
Tho  saw  he  knyhtes  justen  in  a  pleyn.  11510 

And  after  this  he  dede  him  suche  plesaunce, 
That  he  him  schewed  his  lady  in  a  dauuce, 
On  which  hiui  selven  daunced,  as  him  tbouht. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALE*. 


And  whan  this  maister,  that  this  uiagik  wrouht, 

Saw  it  was  time,  he  clapped  his  hondes  two, 

And  fare  well,  al  the  revel  is  ago. 

And  yet  reinued  they  never  out  of  the  hous, 

Whiles  they  sawe  alle  this  sightes  mervelous  ; 

But  in  his  stodie,  ther  his  bokes  be, 

They  saten  stille,  and  no  wight  but  they  thre.       11520 

To  him  his  maister  called  than  his  squyere, 

And  sayde  him  thus,  "  May  we  go  to  soupere  ? 

Almost  an  houre  it  is,  I  undertake, 

Sin  I  vow  bad  our  soper  for  to  make, 

Whan  that  this  worthy  men  wenten  with  me 

Into  my  stodie,  ther  as  my  bokes  be." 

"  Sire,"  quod  this  squyere,  "  when  it  liketh  you, 

It  is  al  redy,  though  ye  wolde  righte  now." 

"  Go  we  than  soupe,"  quod  he,  "  as  for  the  best, 

This  amorous  folk  some  timeinoste  have  rest."      11530 

And  after  soper  fel  they  in  trete 
What  somme  schold  his  maisters  guerdon  be, 
To  remue  alle  the  rokkes  of  Bretaigne, 
And  eke  fro  Gerounde  to  the  mouth  of  Seine. 
He  made  it  strange,  and  swore,  so  God  him  save, 
Lesse  than  a  thousand  pound  he  wolde  nought  have, 
Ne  gladly  for  that  somme  he  wolde  not  goon. 
Auriiius  with  blisful  hert  anoon 
Answered  thus  :  "  Fy  on  a  thousand  pound  ! 
This  wyde  world,  which  that  men  say  is  round,     11540 
I  wold  it  give,  if  I  were  lord  of  it. 
This  bargeyn.  is  ful  dry ve,  for  we  ben  knyt ; 
Ye  schal  be  payed  trewly  by  my  trouthe. 
But  loketh  now,  for  necligence  or  slouthe, 
Te  tarie  us  heer  no  lenger  than  to  morwe." 
"  Nay,"  quod  this  clerk,  "  have  her  my  faith  to  borwe." 

To  bed  is  goon  Auriiius  whan  him  leste, 
And  wel  neigh  al  night  he  had  his  reste, 
What  for  his  labour,  and  his  hope  of  blisse, 
His  woful  hert  of  penaunce  had  a  lisse.  11550 

Upon  the  morwe,  whan  that  it  was  day, 
To  Breteign  take  thei  the  righte  way, 
Auriiius,  and  this  magicien  bisyde, 
And  ben  descendid  ther  thay  wol  abyde ; 
And  this  was,  as  these  brakes  me  remembre, 
The  colde  frosty  seisoun  of  Peoembro 
Phebus  wax  old,  and  hewed  lyn.  uitoun, 
That  in  his  hoote  declinaciouu 
Sehon  as  the  burned  gold,  with  stremes  brigl't  ; 
11635.  Ttoe  lacuna  in  the  Huri.  MB.  eudd  with  this  line. 


TEE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE 


But  uow  in  Capricorn  adoun  he  light,  j!5St 

Wher  as  he  schon  ftil  pale,  I  dar  wel  sayn. 

The  bitter  frostes  with  the  sleet  and  rayri 

Destroyed  hath  the  grene  in  every  yerd. 

Janus  sit  by  the  fuyr  with  double  berd, 

And  drynketh  of  his  bugle  horn  the  wyn  ; 

B'forn  him  stont  the  braun  of  toskid  swyn. 

And  nowel  crieth  every  lusty  man. 

Aurilius,  in  al  that  ever  he  can, 

Doth  to  his  maister  chier  and  reverence, 

And  peyneth  him  to  doon  his  diligence        >  .574 

To  bringen  him  out  of  his  peynes  sinerte, 

Or  with  a  swerd  that  he  wold  slytte  his  herte. 

This  subtil  clerk  sucli  routhe  had  of  this  man, 
That  night  and  day  he  spedeth  him,  that  he  can, 
To  wayte  a  tyme  of  his  conclusioun  ; 
This  is  to  say,  to  make  illusioun, 
By  such  an  apparence  of  jogelrie 
(I  can  no  termes  of  astrologie), 
That  sche  and  every  wight  schold  wene  and  saye, 
That  of  Breteygn  the  rokkes  were  awaye,  1158i 

Or  elles  they  sonken  were  under  the  grounde. 
So  atte  last  he  hath  a  tyme  i-founde 
To  make  his  japes  and  his  wrecchednesse 
Of  such  a  supersticious  cursed nesse. 
His  tables  Tollitanes  forth  he  brought 
Ful  well  corrected,  ne  ther  lakked  nought, 
Neither  his  collect,  ne  his  expans  yeeres, 
Neither  his  rootes,  ne  his  other  geeres, 
As  ben  his  centris,  and  his  argumentis, 
And  his  proporcionels  convenientis  I15JK 

For  her  equaciouns  in  every  thing. 
And  by  his  thre  speeres  in  his  wor('hin£, 
He  knew  ful  wel  how  fer  Allnath  was  schove 
Fro  the  heed  of  thilk  fixe  Aries  above, 
That  in  the  fourthe  speere  considred  is.  . 
Ful  subtilly  he  calkiled  al  this. 
Whan  he  had  founde  his  firste  manciotin, 

1158.1.  Hit  tables  TollHanes,  "The  Astronomical  Tabi«»,  exupoeevi  b) 
order  of  Aiphonso  X.,  king  of  Castile,  about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  cei* 
tury,  were  called  sometimes  Tabula:  Toletance,  from  their  being  ftdapte-1  to 
the  city  of  Toledo.  Tliero  is  a  very  elegant,  copy  of  them  in  .Ms.  Hari.  3G47 
I  am  not  sufficiently  skilled  in  ancient  astronomy  to  add  anything  to  th«  ei- 
planation  of  the  following  technical  terms,  drawn  chieliy  from  those  tables, 
which  has  been  given  in  the  Addit.  to  Gloss.  \Jn.'"—Tjiruihitt, 

Ilf>.'i2.  i.'ire.     'J'yrwhitt,  witli  the  Ms.  Lansd.,  reads  eighte. 

115il3.  Ailnatk.  The  liret  star  in  the  horns  of  Aries,  whence  the  first  niajj 
lion  of  the  moon  is  named. 

5.  fourths.    Tyrwlutt,  with  MB   Lansd.,  reatlu  iiinthe. 


822  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


He  knew  the  remenaunt  by  proporcioun  ; 

And  knew  the  arisyng  of  this  inoone  wel, 

And  in  whos  face,  and  ternie,  and  every  del  ;         11600 

And  knew  ful  wel  the  moones  iiianciouu 

Acordaunt  to  his  operacioun  j 

And  knew  also  his  other  observaunces, 

For  suche  illusiouns  and  suche  mesohaunces, 

As  hethen  folk  used  in  thilke  dayes. 

For  which  no  lenger  maked  he  delayes, 

But  thurgh  his  magik,  for  a  wike  or  tweye, 

It  seemed  that  the  rokkes  were  aweye. 

Aurilius,  which  yet  dispayred  is 

Wher  he  schal  hari  his  love  or  fare  amys,  11610 

Awayteth  night  and  day  on  this  miracle  ; 
And  whan  he  knew  that  ther  was  noon  obstacle, 
That  voyded  were  these  rokkes  everichoon, 
Douii  to  his  maistres  feet  he  fel  anoon, 
And  sayd  :  "  I  wrecched  woful  Aurilius, 
Thanke  you,  lord,  and  rny  lady  Venus, 
That  uie  han  holpe  fro  rny  cares  colde." 
And  to  the  temple  his  way  forth  he  hath  holde. 
Wher  as  he  knew  he  schold  his  lady  se. 
And  whan  he  saugh  his  tyme,  aiioon  right  he        11620 
With  dredful  hert  and  with  ful  humble  cheere 
Salued  hath  his  owne  lady  deere. 
"  My  soverayn  lady,"  quod  this  woful  man, 
"  Whom  1  most  drede,  and  love,  as  I  can, 
And  lothest  were  of  al  this  world  displese, 
Nere  it  that  I  for  you  have  such  desese, 
That  I  most  deye  her  at  youre  foot  anoon, 
Nought  wold  I  teMfi  how  me  is  wo  bygoon, 
But  certes  outlier  most  I  dye  or  pleyne, 
Yfc  sleen  me  gulteles  for  verrey  peyne.  11630 

But  of  my  deth  though  that  ye  have  no  routhe, 
Avyseth  yow,  or  that  ye  breke  your  trouthe  ; 
Repenteth  vow  for  thilke  God  above. 
Or  ye  me  sleen,  bycause  that  I  you  love. 
For,  madame,  wel  ye  woot  what  ye  han  night  ; 
Not  that  I  chalenge  eny  thing  of  right 
Of  yow,  my  soverayn  lady,  but  youre  grace  ; 
But  in  a  gardyn  yoride,  at  such  a  place, 
Ye  wot  right  wel  what  ye  byhighte  me, 
And  in  myn  hond  your  trouthe  plighte  ye,  11640 

To  love  me  best  ',  Grod  woot  ye  sayde  so, 
Al  be  that  I  unworthy  am  therto  ; 
Madame,  I  speke  it  for  thonour  of  yow, 
More  than  to  save  myn  hertes  lif  right  now  ; 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  323 


I  have  do  so  as  ye  comaunded  me, 

And  if  ye  vouchesauf,  ye  may  go  se. 

Doth  as  you  list,  have  youre  byheste  in  inynde, 

For  quyk  or  deed,  right  ther  ye  schul  me  fynde  ; 

In  yow  lith  al  to  do  me  lyve  or  deye  ; 

But  wel  I  wot  the  rokkes  ben  aweye."  11050 

lie  taketh  his  leve,  and  sche  astoned  stood  ; 
In  alle  hir  face  nas  oon  drop  of  blood  ; 
Sche  wende  never  have  be  in  such  a  trappe. 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  that  ever  this  schulde  happe 
For  wend  I  never  by  possibilite, 
That  such  a  rnonstre  or  merveyl  mighte  be  ; 
It  is  agayns  the  proces  of  nature." 
And  horn  sche  goth  a  sorwful  creature, 
For  verray  fere  unnethe  may  sche  go. 
Sche  wepeth,  wayleth  al  a  day  or  tuo,  11660 

And  swowneth,  that  in  routhe  was  to  see  ; 
But  why  it  was,  to  no  wight  tolde  sche, 
For  out  of  toune  was  goon  Arviragus. 
But  to  hir  self  sche  spak,  and  sayd  thus, 
With  fa.ce  pale,  and  with  ful  sorwful  chiere, 
In  hir  compleint,  as  ye  schul  after  hiere. 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  on  the,  fortune,  I  pleyne, 
That  unwar  wrapped  me  hast  in  thy  cheyne, 
Fro  which  tescape,  woot  I  no  socour, 
Save  oonlydeth.  or  elles  dishonour  ;  11670 

Oon  of  these  tuo  bihoveth  me  to  chese. 
But  natheles,  yet  have  I  lever  leese 
My  lif,  than  of  my  body  to  have  schame, 
Or  knowe  my  selve  fals,  or  lese  my  name  ; 
And  with  my  deth  I  may  be  quyt  i-wys. 
Hath  ther  not  many  a  noble  wyf,  er  this, 
And  many  a  mayden,  slayn  hir  self,  alias  ! 
Rather  than  with  her  body  doon  trespas  ? 
Tis  certeynlj   .     \  stories  beren  witnes. 
Whan  thritty  ,i_--.'ntz  ful  of  cursednes  11680 

Hadde  slayn  Phidon  in  Atheiies  atte  fest, 
They  comaunded  his  doughtres  to  arest, 
And  bryngen  hem  biforn  hern  in  despit 
Al  naked,  to  fulfille  her  foule  delyt ; 
And  in  her  fadres  blood  they  made  hem  daunce 
Upon  the  pavyment,  God  gave  hem  moschaunce. 
For  which  these  woful  maydens,  ful  of  drede, 
Ratter  than  they  wold  lese  her  maydenhede, 
They  prively  ben  stert  into  a  welle, 

11679.  stories  beren  witnes.    They  are  all  taken  from  Hicronymut  centra 
um.  1.  i.  c.  39. 


324  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  drenched  hern  selfen,  as  the  bookes  telle.        11690 

"  They  of  Mecene  leet  enquere  and  seeke 
Of  Laeidomye  fifty  maydenes  eeke, 
On  which  they  wolden  doon  her  leccherie  ; 
But  was  ther  noon  of  al  that  corupanye 
That  sche  nas  slayn,  and  with  a  good  entente 
Cues  rather  for  to  deye,  than  to  assente 
To  ben  oppressed  of  hir  maydenhede. 
Why  schuld  I  than  to  deyen  ben  in  flrede  ? 

"  Lo  eek  the  tyraunt  Aristoclides, 

That  loved  a  ruayden  heet  Stimphalides,  1170C 

Whan  that  hir  father  slayn  was  on  a  night, 
Unto  Dyanes  temple  goth  sche  right, 
And  hent  the  yrnage  in  hir  hondes  tuo. 
Fro  which  yuiage  wold  sche  never  go, 
No  wight  might  of  it  hir  hondes  race, 
Til  sche  was  slayn  right  in  the  selve  place. 
Now  sith  that  inaydens  hadde  such  despit 
To  ben  defouled  with  marines  foul  delit, 
Wei  aught  a  wyf  rather  hir  self  to  sle, 
Than  be  defouled,  as  it  thenketh  me.  11710 

"  What  schal  I  seyn  of  Hasdrubaldes  wyf, 
That  at  Cartage  byraft  hir  self  the  lyf  ? 
For  whan  sche  saugh  that  Roinayns  wan  the  toun, 
Sche  took  hir  children  alle,  and  skipte  adoun 
Into  the  fuyr,  and  ches  rather  to  deye, 
Than  eny  Roraayn  dide  hir  vilonye, 

"  Hath  nought  Lucresse  slayn  hir  self,  alias ! 
At  Rome,  whanne  sche  oppressid  was 
Of  Tarquyn  ?  for  hir  thought  it  was  a  scharne 
To  lyven,  whan  sche  hadde  lost  hir  name.  11720 

"  The  seven  maydens  of  Milesie  also 
Han  slayn  hem  self  for  verray  drede  and  wo, 
Rather  than  folk  of  Gawle  hem  schulde  oppresse. 
Mo  than  a  thousand  stories,  as  I  gesse, 
Couthe  I  now  telle  as  touching  this  matiere. 

"  Whan  Habradace  was  slayn,  his  wif  so  deere 
Hir  selven  slough,  and  leet  hir  blood  to  glyde 
In  Habradaces  woundes,  deepe  and  wyde  j 
And  seyde,  my  body  atte  leste  way 

Ther  schal  no  wight  defoulen,  if  I  may.  11  730 

What  schold  I  mo  ensamples  herof  sayn  ? 
Seththen  so  many  nan  hem  selven  slayn 
Wei  rather  than  they  wolde  defouled  be, 
I  wol  conclude  that  it  is  best  for  me 
To  slen  my  self  than  be  defouled  thus. 
1  wol  be  trewe  unto  Arviragua, 


THE  FRANKELEYNES  TALE.  325 


Or  rather  sle  my  self  in  som  mariere, 

As  dede  Democionis  doughter  deere, 

Byeause  sclie  would  nought  defouled  be. 

O  Cedasus,  it  is  ful  gret  pite  11740 

To  reden  how  thy  doughteren  dyed,  alias  ! 

That  slowe  hem  self  for  suche  rnaner  caas. 

As  gret  a  pite  was  it  or  wel  more, 

The  Theban  mayden,  that  for  Nichonoro 

Hir  selven  slough,  right  for  such  maner  wo. 

Another  Theban  mayden  dede  right  so, 

For  oon  of  Macidone  had  hir  oppressed, 

Sche  with  hire  deth  hire  maydenhede  redressed. 

What  schal  I  sayn  of  Niceratis  wif, 

That  for  such  caas  biraft  hir  self  hir  lyf  ?  11750 

How  trewe  eek  was  to  Alcebiades 

His  love,  that  for  to  dyen  rather  ches, 

Than  for  to  suffre  his  body  unburied  be  ? 

Lo,  which  a  wif  was  Alceste  ?  "  quod  sche, 

"  What  saith  Omer  of  good  Penolope  ? 

Al  Grece  knoweth  of  hir  chastite.          - 

Paradi,  of  Laodomya  is  writen  thus, 

Than  whan  at  Troye  was  slayn  Prothesilaus, 

No  lenger  wol  sche  lyve  after  his  day. 

The  same  of  noble  Porcia  telle  I  may  ;  1.760 

Withoute  Brutus  could  sche  not  lyve, 

To  whom  sche  had  al  hool  hir  herte  ,^yve. 

The  parfyt  wyfhod  of  Artemesye 

Honoured  is  thurgh  al  the  Barbarie. 

()  Teuta  queen,  thy  winy  chastite 

To  alle  wyves  a  mirour  be." 

Thus  playned  Dorigen  a  day  or  tweye, 
Purposyng  ever  that  sche  wolde  deye; 
But  natheles  upon  the  thridde  night 
Horn  cam  Arviragus,  the  worthy  knight,  11770 

And  asked  hir  Avhy  that  sche  wept  so  sore  ; 
And  sche  gan  wepe  ever  lenger  the  more. 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  that  ever  was  I  born  ! 
Thus  have  I  sayd,"  quod  sche,  "  thus  have  I  swore  ; 
And  told  him  al,  as  ye  han  herd  biforn 


11761.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  this  line,  apparently  Incorrectly,  withoute 
kynde  scht  myght  not  lyve. 

11765.  Teuta.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  O  Thena. 

11766.  To  alle  wyves.    "  After  this  verge  the  two  following  are  found  in 
several  MSB.— 

Tbe  same  thing  I  say  of  Bilia, 
Of  Uhodogone  and  of  Valeria. 

But  as  they  are  wanting  in  Mas.  A.  C.  1  Ask.  1,  2,  HA.,  I  was  not  unwilling  tc 
leave  them  out."-  Tyrwhitt. 


326  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


It  needeth  nought  reherse  it  you  no  more. 

This  housbond  with  glad  chiere  in  good  wise 
Answered  and  sayde,  as  I  schal  you  devyse. 
"  Is  ther  aught  elles,  Dorigen,  but  this?  "  11779 

"  Nay,  nay,"  quod  sche,  "  God  me  so  rede  and  wis, 
This  is  to  moche,  and  it  were  Goddes  wille." 
"  Ye,  wyf,"  quod  he,  "  let  slepe  that  may  be  stille, 
It  may  be  wel  peraunter  yet  to  day, 
Ye  schal  your  trouthe  holden,  by  my  fay. 
For  God  so  wisely  have  mercy  on  me, 
I  had  wel  lever  i-stekid  for  to  be, 
For  verray  love  which  that  I  to  you  have, 
But  if  ye  scholde  your  trouthe  kepe  and  save. 
Trouthe  is  the  highest  thing  that  men  may  kepe." 
But  with  that  word  he  gan  anoon  to  wepe,  11790 

And  sayde,  "  I  yow  forbede  up  peyne  of  deth, 
That  never  while  ye  lasteth  lyf  or  breth, 
To  no  wight  telle  you  of  this  aventure. 
As  I  may  best  I  wil  my  woo  endure. 
Ne  make  no  contenaunce  of  hevynesse, 
That  folk  of  you  ma}'  cleme  harm  or  gesse." 
And  forth  he  cleped  a  squyer  and  a  mayde. 
"  Go  forth  anoon  with  Dorigen,"  he  sayde, 
"  And  bryngeth  hir  to  such  a  place  anoon." 
Thay  take  her  leve,  and  on  her  wey  they  gon  ;       11800 
But  thay  ne  wiste  why  sche  thider  went, 
He  nolde  no  wight  tellen  his  entent. 

This  squyer,  which  that  hight  Aurilius, 
On  Dorigen  that  was  so  amerous, 
Of  aventure  happed  hire  to  mete 
Amyd  the  toun,  right  in  the  quyke  strete  ; 
As  sche  was  boun  to  goon  the  wey  forth-right 
Toward  the  gardyn,  ther  as  sche  had  hight. 
And  he  was  to  the  gardyn-ward  also  ; 
For  wel  he  spyed  whan  sche  wolde  go  11810 

Out  of  hir  hous,  to  eny  maner  place. 
But  thus  thay  mette  of  adventure  or  grace, 

*#2.  He  nolde.    "  After  this  verso  ed.  Ca.  2  has  the  six  following : 

Peraventure  an  hepe  of  you,  I  wis, 

Will  holden  him  a  lewed  man  in  this, 

That  he  woll  put  his  wife  in  jeopardie. 

Herkneth  the  tale,  or  ye  upon  him  crie. 

Sche  may  have  better  fortune  than  you  semeth  ; 

And  whan  that  ye  ban  herde  the  tale  demeth. 

fh\  *e  vu<es  are  more  in  the  style  and  manner  of  Chaucer  than  interpolation! 
,?«f«j.  v.1  /  are  ;  but  as  I  do  not  remember  to  have  found  them  in  any  Mg.,  I 
could  no*  receive  them  into  the  text.  I  think,  too,  that  if  they  were  written 
by  him,  \e  would  probably,  upon  more  mature  consideration,  have  suppressed 
duem,  aa  unnecessarily  anticipating  the  catastrophe  of  the  Ule."—  Tryvihttt. 


THE  FRAN-KELEYNES  TALE.  327 

And  he  salueth  hir  with  glad  entent, 

And  askith  hire  whider-ward  sche  went. 

And  sche  answered,  half  as  sche  were  mad, 

'  Unto  the  gardyn,  as  myn  housbond  bad, 

My  trouthe  for  to  holde  alias  !  alias  1 " 

Aurilius  gan  wondren  on  this  caas, 

And  in  his  hert  had  gret  corapassioun 

Of  hire,  and  of  hir  lamentacioun,  11820 

And  of  Arviragus  the  worthy  knight, 

That  bad  hir  hold  al  that  sche  hadde  hight, 

So  loth  him  was  his  wif  schuld  breke  hir  trouthe. 

And  in  his  hert  he  caught  of  this  gret  routhe, 

Gonsideryng  the  best  on  every  syde, 

That  fro  his  lust  yet  were  him  lever  abyde, 

Than  doon  so  high  a  cheerlissch  wrecchednesse 

Agayne  fraunchis  of  alle  gentilesce  ; 

For  which  in  fewe  wordes  sayd  he  thus. 

"  Madame,  saith  to  your  lord  Arviragus,  11830 

That  sith  I  se  his  grete  gentilesse 

To  you,  and  eek  I  se  wel  your  distresse, 

That  him   were   lever  have  schame   (and   that   were 

routhe) 

Than  ne  to  me  schulde  breke  youre  trouthe, 
I  have  wel  lever  ever  to  suffre  woo, 
Than  I  departe  the  love  bytwix  yow  tuo, 
I  yow  releese,  madame,  into  your  hond 
Quyt  every  seurement  and  every  bond 
That  ye  han  maad  to  me  as  herbiforn, 
Sith  thilke  tyme  which  that  ye  were  born.  11840 

My  trouthe  I  plight,  I  schal  yow  never  repreve 
Of  no  byhest,  and  her  I  take  my  leve, 
As  of  the  trewest  and  best  wif 
That  ever  yit  I  knew  in  al  my  lyf. 
But  every  wyf  be  war  of  hir  byhest ; 
On  Dorigen  remembreth  atte  lest. 
Thus  can  a  squyer  doon  a  gentil  dede, 
As  wel  as  can  a  knyght,  withouten  drede." 

Sche  thanketh  him  upon  hir  knees  al  bare, 
And  hoom  unto  hir  housbond  is  sche  fare,  11350 

And  told  mm  al,  as  ye  han  herd  me  sayd  ; 
And  be  ye  siker,  he  was  so  wel  apayed, 
That  it  were  impossible  me  to  write. 
What  schuld  I  lenger  of  this  caas  endite  ? 
Arvirctgus  and  Dorigen  his  wyf 
In  sove/eyn  blisse  leden  forth  here  lyf, 
Never  eft  ne  was  ther  anger  hem  bytwen  ; 
He  cherisscheth  hir  as  though  she  were  a  queen, 


828  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  sche  was  to  him  trewe  for  evermore  ; 

Of  these  tuo  folk  ye  gete  of  me  nomore.  11860 

Aurilius,  that  his  cost  hath  al  for-lorn, 
Curseth  the  tyme  that  ever  he  was  born. 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  he,  "  alias,  that  byhight 
Of  pured  gold  a  thousand  pound  of  wight 
Unto  this  philosophre  !  how  schal  I  doo  ? 
I  se  no  more,  but  that  I  am  for-doo. 
Myn  heritage  moot  I  needes  selle, 
And  ben  a  begger,  her  may  I  not  duelle, 
And  schamen  al  my  kynrede  in  this  place, 
But  I  of  him  may  gete  better  grace.  1187& 

But  natheles  I  wol  of  him  assay 
At  certeyn  dayes  veer  by  yer  to  pay, 
And  thanke  him  of  his  grete  curtesye. 
My  trouthe  wol  I  kepe,  I  wol  not  lye." 
With  herte  soor  he  goth  unto  his  cofre, 
And  broughte  gold  unto  this  philosophre, 
The  value  of  fyf  hundred  pound,  I  gesse, 
And  him  bysecheth  of  his  gentilesce 
To  graunte  him  dayes  of  the  remenaunt ; 
And  sayde,  "  Maister,  I  dar  wel  make  avaunt,       11880 
I  fayled  never  of  my  trouthe  as  yit. 
For  sikerly  my  dettes  schal  be  quyt 
Towardes  yow,  how  so  that  ever  I  fare 
To  goon  and  begge  in  my  kurtil  bare  ; 
But  wolde  ye  vouchesauf  upon  seurte 
Tuo  yer  or  thre  for  to  respite  me, 
Than  were  I  wel,  for  elles  moste  I  selle 
Myn  heritage,  ther  is  nomore  to  telle." 

This  philosophre  sobrely  answerde, 
And  seyde  thus,  when  he  these  wordes  herde  ;       11890 

Have  I  not  holden  covenaurit  unto  the  ?  " 

Yis  certes,  wel  and  trewely,"  quod  he. 

Hastow  nought  had  thy  lady  as  the  liketh  ?  " 

No,  no,"  quod  he,  and  sorwfully  he  siketh. 

What  was  the  cause  ?  tel  me,  if  thou  can." 
Aurilius  his  tale  anoon  bygan, 
And  told  him  al  as  ye  han  herd  biforvi. 
It  needeth  nat  to  you  reherse  it  more, 
fie  sayde,  Arviragus  of  gentilesse 

Had  lever  dye  in  sorwe  and  distresse,  11900 

Than  that  his  wyf  were  of  hir  trouthe  fa  Is. 
The  sorwe  of  Dorigen  he  tolde  him  als, 
How  loth  hir  was  to  ben  a  wikked  wyf, 
And  that  sche  lever  had  han  lost  hir  lyf  ; 
And  that  hir  trouthe  sche  swor  thurgh  innocenc«  ; 


THE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  829 

Sche  never  erst  hadcle  herd  speke  of  apparence  ; 
"  That  made  me  han  of  hir  so  grete  pyte. 
And  right  as  frely  as  he  sente  hir  to  me, 
As  frely  sent  I  hir  to  him  agayn. 

This  is  al  and  som,  ther  is  no  more  to  sayn."          11990 
The  philosophre  answerde,  "  Leve  brother. 
Everich  of  yow  dede  gentilly  to  other  ; 
Thow  art  a  squyer,  and  he  is  knight, 
But  God  forbede,  for  his  blisful  might, 
But  if  a  clerk  couthe  doon  as  gentil  dede 
As  wel  as  eny  of  you,  it  is  no  drede. 
Sire,  I  relesse  the  thy  thousand  pound. 
As  thou  right  now  were  crope  out  of  the  ground, 
Ne  never  er  now  ne  haddest  knowen  me. 
For,  sire,  I  wil  not  take  a  peny  of  the  11920 

For  al  my  craft,  ne  nought  for  al  my  travayle  ; 
Thou  hast  y-payed  wel  for  my  vitayle. 
It  is  y-nough,  and  far  wel,  have  good  day." 
And  took  his  hors,  and  forth  he  goth  his  way. 
Lordynges,  this  questioun  wolde  I  axe  now, 
Which  was  the  most  free,  as  thinketh  yow  ? 
Now  telleth  me,  er  that  I  ferther  wende. 
I  can  no  more,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende. 

THE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE. 

THE  minister  and  the  norice  unto  vices, 
Which  that  men  clepe  in  Englisch  ydelnesse,         11930 
The  porter  at  the  gates  is  of  delicis ; 
To  eschiewe,  and  by  her  contrary  hire  oppresse, 
That  is  to  say,  by  leful  besynesse, 
Wel  oughte  we  to  do  al  oure  entente, 
Lest  that  the  fend  thurgh  ydelness  us  hente. 

11908.  And  right  as.    Ms.  Harl.  reads  this  and  the  next  line,— 

Bycause  hir  housebond  eente  hir  to  me, 
A.J  i  right  as  frely  sent  I  hir  to  him  ageyn. 

11926.  Which  ivai  t«  mostefree.  Tyrwhitt  remarks  that,  "  The  same  ques- 
tion is  stated  in  the  conclusion  of  Bpccace's  tale.  I'hiloc.  1,  v.  Dubitasi  ora 
qual  di  *  ostoro  f usse  maggior  liberalitA,  Ac.  The  queen  determines  in  favor 
of  the  hiifbund."  It  may  be  further  observed  that  this  conclusion  of  the 
•tory  gives  it  the  character  of  those  questions  which  were  usually  debated 
iii  the  medieval  courts  of  love. 

The  Secountle  Xonnes  Tale.  This  is  almost  a  literal  translation  from  the 
life  of  St.  Cecilia  in  the  I.eyenda  Aurea.  It  appears  to  Lave  been  first  com- 
posed by  Chaucer  as  a  separate  work,  and  is  enumerated  as  such  in  the  Le- 
yenrte  of  Good  Women,  1.  426.  In  two  manuscripts  quoted  by  Tyrwhitt,  some 
lines,  evidently  not  by  Chaucer,  are  prefixed  as  an  introduction.  It  may  b« 
added  that  here  the  Harleian  Ms.  differs  from  Tyrwhitt's  edition  In  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  tales,  which  renders  it  impossible  to  continue  my  origin*} 
Intention  of  preserving  Tyrwhitt's  numbering  of  the  line*. 


830  THE  CANTERBDRY  TALES. 


For  he  that  with  his  thousand  cordes  slye 
Continuelly  us  wayteth  to  byclappe, 
Whan  he  may  man  in  ydelnes  espye, 
He  can  so  lightly  cacche  him  in  his  trappe, 
Til  that  a  man  be  hent  right  by  the  lappe,  11940 

He  is  nought  ware  the  fend  hath  him  in  honde  ; 
Wei  oughte  we  wirche,  and  ydelnes  withstonde. 

And  though  men  dredde  never  for  to  deye, 
Yet  seen  men  wel  by  resoun  douteles, 
That  ydelnes  is  rote  of  sloggardye, 
Of  which  ther  cometh  never  good  encres  ; 
And  sin  that  slouth  he  holdeth  in  a  lees, 
Oonly  to  sleep,  and  for  to  ete  and  drynke, 
And  to  devoure  al  that  other  swynke. 

And  for  to  put  us  from  such  ydelnes,  11950 

That  cause  is  of  so  gret  eonfusioun, 
I  have  her  doon  my  faithful  busynes 
After  the  legende  in  translacioun 
Right  of  this  glorious  lif  and  passioun, 
Thou  with  thi  garlond,  wrought  with  rose  and  lylye, 
The  mene  I,  mayde  and  martir  Cecilie  ; 

And  thou,  that  flour  of  virgines  art  alle, 
Of  whom  that  Bernard  lust  so  wel  to  write, 
To  the  at  my  bygynnyng  first  I  calle  ; 
Thou  comfort  of  us  wrecches.  do  me  endite  11960 

Thy  maydenes  deth,  that  wan  thurgh  hire  merite 
Theternal  lif,  and  of  the  feend  victorie, 
As  man  may  after  reden  in  hir  storie. 

Thou  mayde  and  moder,  doughter  of  thy  sone, 
Thow  welle  of  mercy,  synful  soules  cure, 
In  whom  that  God  of  bountes  chees  to  wone  ; 
Thou  humble  and  heyh  over  every  creature, 
Thou  nobelest  so  ferforth  oure  nature, 
That  no  disdeyn  the  maker  had  of  kynde  11969 

His  sone  in  blood  and  fleissh  to  clothe  and  wynde. 

Withiiine  the  cloyster  of  thi  blisful  sydes, 
Took  rnannes  schap  the  eternal  love  and  pees, 
That  of  the  trine  compas  lord  and  guyde  is, 
Whom  erthe,  and  see,  and  heven  out  of  relees 
Ay  herien  ;  and  thou,  virgine  wemmeles, 
Bar  of  thy  body,  and  dwellest  mayden  pure, 
The  creatour  of  every  creature. 

Assembled  is  in  the  magnificence 
With  mercy,  goodnes,  and  with  such  pitee, 
That  thou,  that  art  the  soune  of  excellence,  11    A 

11958.  Bernard.    Some  of  the  most  eloquent  of  the  sennoiie  of  St  B«       M 
are  on  the  nativity  and  assumption  of  the  Vl 


THE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  331 

Not  oonly  helpest  hem  that  prayen  the, 
But  often  tyine  of  thy  benignite 
Ful  frely,  er  that  men  thin  help  biseche, 
Thou  gost  biforn,  and  art  her  lyfes  leche. 

Now  help,  thou  meke  and  blisful  faire  inayde 
Me  flemed  wreccbe,  in  desert  of  galle  ; 
Thenk  on  the  womman  Cananee,  that  sayde 
That  whelpes  ete  some  of  the  croinnies  alle 
That  from  her  lordes  table  ben  i-falle  ; 
And  though  that  I,  unworthy  sorie  of  Eve,  11990 

Be  synful,  yet  accepte  my  bileve. 

And  for  that  faith  is  deth  withouten  werkis, 
So  for  to  werken  give  me  witt  and  space, 
That  I  be  quit  fro  thennes  that  most  derk  is  ; 
O  thou,  that  art  so  fair  and  ful  of  grace, 
Be  niyn  advocat  in  that  hihe  place, 
Ther  is  withouten  ende  is  songe  Osanne, 
Thou  Cristes  moder,  doughter  deere  of  Anne. 

And  of  thi  light  my  soule  in  prisoun  light, 
That  troubled  is  by  the  contagioun  12000 

Of  my  body,  and  also  by  the  wight 
Of  everich  lust  and  fals  affeccioun  ; 
O  heveo  of  refuyt,  o  salvacioun 
Of  hem  that  ben  in  sorwe  and  in  distresse, 
Now  help,  for  to  my  werk  I  wil  me  dresse. 

Yet  pray  I  you  that  reden  that  I  write, 
Forgeve  me,  that  I  doo  no  diligence 
This  ilke  story  subtilly  to  endite. 
For  bothe  have  I  the  wordes  and  sentence 
Of  him,  that  at  the  seintes  reverence  12010 

The  story  wroot,  and  folwen  hir  legende, 
And  pray  yow  that  ye  wol  my  werk  amende. 

First  wol  I  yow  the  name  of  seint  Cecilie 
Eipoune,  as  men  may  in  hir  story  se  ; 
It  is  to  say  on  Englisch,  hevenes  lilie, 
For  pure  chastenesse  of  virginite, 
Or  for  sche  witnesse  hadde  of  honest* 
And  grene  of  conscience,  and  of  good  fame 
The  soote  savour,  lilie  was  her  name. 

Or  Cecile  is  to  say,  the  way  of  blynde,  ]  20*30 

For  sche  ensample  was  by  way  of  techynge  ; 
Or  elles  Cecily,  as  I  writen  fynde, 

11987.  the  womman  Cananee.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  erroneously  the  u-om- 
rn'in  Canace. 

12013.  the  name.  These  punning  explanations  of  proper  names  were  vory 
fMhionable  in  the  middle  ages.  In  the  present  instance,  they  are  Uanelttea 
directl)  from  the  prologue  to  the  Latin  legend. 


832  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Is  joyned  by  a  maner  conjoynynge 

Of  heven  and  lya,  and  here  in  figurynge 

The  heven  is  sette  for  thought  of  holynease, 

And  lya,  for  hir  lastyng  besynesse. 
Cecil!  may  eek  be  seyd  in  this  manere, 

Wantyng  of  blyndnes,  for  hir  grete  light 

Of  sapience,  and  of  thilke  thewes  cleere. 

Or  elles  lo,  this  maydenes  name  bright  12030 

Of  heven  and  los  comes,  for  which  by  right 

Men  might  hir  wel  the  heven  of  peple  calle, 

Ensample  of  goode  and  wise  werkes  alle. 
For  leos  peple  in  Englissh  is  to  say ; 

And  right  as  men  may  in  the  heven  see 

The  sonne  and  moone,  and  sterres  every  way, 

Right  so  men  gostly  in  this  mayden  free 

Seen  of  faith  the  magnanimite, 

And  eek  the  clernes  hool  of  sapience, 

And  sondry  werkes,  bright  of  excellence.  12040 

And  right  so  as  these  philosofres  wryte, 

That  heven  is  swyft  and  round,  and  eek  brennynge, 

Right  so  was  faire  Cecily  the  whyte 

Ful  swyft  and  besy  ever  in  good  werkynge, 

And  round  and  hool  in  good  perseverynge, . 

And  brennyng  ever  in  charite  ful  bright ; 

Now  have  I  yow  declared  what  sche  hight. 

This  mayden  bright  Cecilie,  as  hir  lyf  saith. 
Was  comen  of  Romayns  and  of  noble  kynde, 
And  from  hir  cradel  fostred  in  the  faith  12050 

Of  Crist,  and  bar  his  Gospel  in  hir  mynde  ; 
Sche  never  cessed,  as  I  writen  fynde, 
Of  hire  prayer,  and  God  to  love  and  drede, 
Byseching  him  to  kepe  hir  maydenhede. 

And  whan  this  mayde  schuld  unto  a  man 
Y-wedded  be,  that  was  ful  yong  of  age, 
Which  that  i-cleped  was  Valirian, 
Arid  day  was  comen  of  hir  mariage, 
Sche  ful  devout  and  humble  in  hir  currage, 
Under  hir  robe  of  gold,  that  sat  ful  faire,  12060 

Hadde  next  hir  fleissh  i-clad  hir  in  an  heire. 

And  whil  the  organs  made  melodic, 
To  God  alloon  in  herte  thus  sang  sche  ; 
"  O  Lord,  my  soule  and  eek  my  body  gye 
Unwemmed.  lest  that  I  confounded  be. 
And  for  his  love  that  deyde  upon  a  tre. 
Every  secound  or  thridde  day  sche  faste, 
Ay  biddyng  in  hire  orisouns  ful  faste. 
The  nyght  cam,  and  to  bedde  most  sche  goon 


THE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  333 

With  hir  housbond,  as  oft  ia  the  manere,  12070 

And  prively  to  him  sche  sayde  anoon  ; 

"  O  swete  and  wel  biloved  spouse  deere, 

Ther  is  a  counseil,  and  ye  wold  it  heere, 

Which  that  right  fayn  I  wold  unto  you  saye, 

So  that  ye  swere  ye  srhul  it  not  bywraye." 

Valirian  gan  fast  unto  hir  swere, 
That  for  no  caas  ne  thing  that  inighte  be, 
He  scholde  never  mo  bywreye  hire  j 
And  thanne  at  erst  thus  to  him  sayde  sche  ; 
"  I  have  an  aungel  which  that  loveth  me,  12080 

That  with  gret  love,  wher  so  I  wake  or  slepe, 
Is  redy  ay  my  body  for  to  kepe  ; 

"  And  if  that  he  may  felen,  out  of  drede, 
That  ye  me  touche  or  love  in  vilonye, 
He  right  anoon  wil  sle  you  with  the  dede, 
Anrfin  youre  youthe  thus  schulde  ye  dye. 
And  if  that  ye  in  clene  love  me  gye, 
He  wol  yow  love  as  me,  for  your  clennesse, 
And  schewe  to  you  his  joye  and  his  brightnesse." 

Valirian,  corrected  as  God  wolde,  1209C 

Answerde  agayn  :  "  If  I  schal  truste  the, 
Let  me  that  aungel  se,  and  him  biholde  ; 
And  if  that  it  a  verray  aungel  be, 
Than  wol  I  doon  as  thou  hast  prayed  me  ; 
And  if  thou  love  another  man,  forsothe 
Right  with  this  sword  than  wol  I  slee  you  bothe." 

Cecilie  answerd  anoon  right  in  this  wise  ; 
"  If  that  yow  list,  the  aungel  schul  ye  see, 
So  that  ye  trowe  on  Crist,  and  you  baptise  ; 
Goth  forth  to  Via  Apia,"  quod  sche,  12100 

"  That  fro  this  toun  ne  stant  but  myles  thre, 
And  to  the  pore  folkes  that  ther  duelle 
Saith  hem  right  thus,  as  that  I  schal  you  telle. 

"  Tell  hem,  I  Cecilie  yow  unto  hem  sent, 
To  schewen  yow  the  good  Urban  the  olde, 
For  secre  needes,  and  for  good  entente  ; 
And  whan  that  ye  seint  Urban  nan  byholde, 
Tel  Iviui  the  wordes  which  that  I  to  yow  tolde  ; 
And  whan  that  he  hath  purged  you  fro  synne, 
Than  schul  ye  se  that  aungel  er  ye  twynne."  12110 

Valirian  is  to  the  place  y-goon, 
And  right  as  him  was  taught  by  his  lernynge, 
He  fond  this  holy  old  Urban  anoon 


12083.    This  Hue  hna  been  omitted  by  the  scribe  of  the  Harl.  MB.,  tb«  u«*l 
Jae  there  commencing,  If  ve  TO*  U.iuclie. 


834  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Among  the  seyntes  buriels  lotynge  ; 
And  he  anoon  withoute  taryinge 
Did  his  message,  and  whan  that  he  it  tolde, 
Urban  for  joye  his  handes  gan  upholde. 

The  teres  from  his  eyghen  let  he  falle  ; 
"  Almighty  Lord,  O  Jhesu  Crist,"  quod  he, 
"  Sower  of  chaste  counseil,  herde  of  us  alle,  12120 

The  fruyt  of  thilke  seed  of  chastite 
That  thou  hast  sowe  in  Cecilie,  tak  to  the  ; 
Loo,  like  a  busy  bee  withouten  gyle 
The  serveth  ay  thin  owne  thral  Cecile. 

"  For  thilke  spouse,  that  sche  took  right  now 
Ful  lyk  a  fers  lyoun,  sche  sendeth  here 
As  meek  as  ever  was  eny  lamb  to  yow." 
And  with  that  word  anoon  ther  gan  appere 
An  old  man,  clad  in  white  clothes  clere, 
That  had  a  book  with  lettre.s  of  gold  in  honde,      12130 
Arid  gan  to-forn  Valirian  to  stonde. 

Valirian,  as  deed,  fyl  doun  for  drede, 
Whan  he  him  say ;  and  he  him  up  hente  tho, 
And  on  his  book  right  thus  he  gan  to  rede  ; 
"  On  Lord,  o  feith,  oon  God  withouten  mo, 
On  Cristendom,  and  oon  fader  of  aile  also, 
Aboven  alle,  and  over  alle  every  where  ;  " 
This  wordes  al  with  golde  writen  were. 

Whan  this  was  red,  than  seide  this  olde  man, 
"  Levest  thou  this  thing  or  no  ?  say  ye  or  naye."  12140 
"  I  leve  al  this  thing,"  quod  Valirian, 
"  For  sother  thing  than  this,  I  dare  wel  saye, 
Under  the  heven  no  wight  thenken  maye." 
Tho  vanysched  the  old  man,  he  nyste  where, 
And  pope  Urban  him  cristened  right  there. 

Valirian  goth  home,  and  fint  Cecilie 
Withinne  his  chambre  with  an  aungel  stonde. 
This  aungel  had  of  roses  and  of  lilie 
Corounes  tuo,  the  which  he  bar  in  honde, 
And  first  to  Cecilie,  as  I  understonde,  12150 

He  gaf  that  oon,  and  after  can  he  take 
That  other  to  Valirian  hir  make. 

"  With  body  clene,  and  with  unwemmed  thought, 
Kepeth  ay  wel  these  corouns  tuo,"  quod  he, 
"  Fro  paradys  to  you  I  have  hem  brought, 
Ne  never  moo  ne  schul  they  roten  be, 

12114.  lotynge.  The  Latiii  legend  has,  inter  sepulchra  martyrinn  ialihtnttm 
imvenit. 

12138-12144.  These  linen  are  omitted  iti  Ms.  Harl  by  the  inadvertent*  of 
the  scribe 


TEE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  33£ 


Ne  leese  here  swoote  savour  trusteth  me, 
Ne  never  wight  schall  seen  hem  with  his  ye, 
But  he  be  chast,  and  hate  vilonye. 

"  And  thou,  Valirian,  for  thou  so  soone  12160 

Assentedist  to  good  counseil,  also 
Say  what  the  list,  and  thou  schalt  have  thi  boon*  " 
"  I  have  a  brother,"  quod  Valirian  tho, 
"  That  in  this  world  I  love  no  man  so, 
I  pray  yow  that  my  brother  may  have  grace 
To  knowe  the  trouthe  as  I  doo  in  this  place." 

The  aungel  sayde,  "  God  liketh  thy  request 
And  bothe  with  the  palme  of  inartirdom 
Ye  schullen  come  unto  his  blisful  feste." 
And  with  that  word,  Tiburce  his  brother  com.       12170 
And  whan  that  he  the  savour  undernom, 
Which  that  the  roses  and  the  lilies  cast, 
Withinne  his  hert  he  gan  to  wondre  fast. 

And  sayde,  "  I  wondre  this  tyme  of  the  yer, 
Whennes  this  soote  savour  cometh  so 
Of  rose  and  lilies,  that  I  smelle  her  ; 
For  though  I  had  hem  in  myn  hondes  tuo, 
The  savour  might  in  me  no  depper  go. 
The  swete  smel,  that  in  myn  hert  I  fynde, 
Hath  chaunged  me  al  in  another  kynde."  12180 

Valirian  sayd,  "  Tuo  corouns  have  we, 
Snow-whyt  and  rose-reed,  that  schinen  cleere, 
Whicht,  that  thine  eyghen  han  no  might  to  see  ; 
And  as  thou  smellest  hem  thurgh  my  prayere, 
So  schalt  thou  seen  hem,  lieve  bro there  deere, 
If  it  so  be  thou  wilt  withouten  slouthe 
Bilieven  aright,  and  knowen  verray  trouthe," 

Tyburce  answerde,  "  Says  thou  thus  to  me 
In  sothenes,  or  in  drem  I  herkne  this  ?  " 
"  In  dremes,"  quod  Valirian,  "  han  we  be  "2190 

Unto  this  tyme,  brother  myn,  i-wys  ; 
But  now  at  erst  in  trouthe  oure  duellyng  is." 
"  How  wost  thou  this,"  quod  Tyburce,  "  and  in  wna* 

wise?  " 
Quod  Valirian,  "  That  schal  I  the  devyse. 

"  The  aungel  of  God  hath  me  trouthe  y-taught, 
Which  thou  schalt  seen,  if  that  thou  wilt  reneye 
The  ydols,  and  be  clene,  and  -lies  nought." 
And  of  the  miracles  of  these  corories  tweye 

12169.  blisful  feste.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  andLansd.  MSB.  Tbo 
ord»  of  the'  Latin  legend  are, — Cui  angelus^,  Placet  Domino  petitio  tua,  et 
nbo  cum  pal  ma  niartyrii  ad  Oominum  vemetis.  Tyrwhitt  reads  rest. 

12198.    The  lines  which  foil  of,  and  which  interrupt  the  narration  very 


386  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Seynt  Ambrose  in  his  prefas  list  to  seye  ; 

Solempnely  this  noble  doctour  deere  12200 

Coniendeth  it,  and  saith  in  this  maneere. 

"The  palme  of  martirdora  for  to  receyve, 
Seynt  Cecilie,  fulfilled  of  Goddes  gifte, 
The  world  and  eek  hir  chamber  gan  sche  weyve  ; 
Witnes  Tyburces  and  Cecilies  shrifte, 
To  whiche  God  of  his  boxmte  wolde  schifte 
Corounes  tuo,  of  fioures  wel  smellynge, 
And  made  his  aungel  home  the  croune  brynge." 

The  mayde  hath  broughc  this  men  to  blisse  above  ; 
The  world  hath  wist  what  it  is  worth  certeyn,       123 10 
Devocioun  of  chastite  to  love. 
Tho  schewed  him  Cecilie  al  open  and  pleyn, 
That  alle  ydoles  nys  but  thing  in  veyn  : 
For  thay  ben  doumbe.  and  therto  they  ben  deve. 
And  chargeth  him  his  ydoles  for  to  leve. 

"  Who  so  that  troweth  not  this,  a  best  he  is," 
Quod  this  Tyburce,  "if  that  I  sehal  not  lye." 
Arid  sche  gan  kisse  his  brest  that  herde  this, 
Arid  was  ful  glad  he  couthe  trouthe  espye  ; 
"  This  day  I  take  the  for  myn  allye,"  12220 

Sayde  this  blisful  faire  mayde  deere  ; 
And  after  that  sche  sayde  as  ye  may  heere. 

"  Lo,  right  so  as  the  love  of  Crist,"  quod  sche, 
"  Made  me  thy  brotheres  wyf,  right  in  that  wyse 
Anoon  for  inyri  allye  heer  take  I  the, 
Sin  that  thou  Avilt  thyne  ydoles  despise. 
Go  with  thi  brother  now  and  the  baptise, 
And  make  the  clene,  so  that  thou  mo  we  biholde 
The  aungeles  face,  of  which  thy  brother  tolde." 

Tyburce  answerde,  and  sayde,  "  Brother  dere,  12230 
First  tel  me  whider  I  schal,  and  to  what  man." 
'•  To  whom  ?  "  quod  he,   "  com  forth  with  good  cheere, 
I  wol  the  lede  unto  the  pope  Urban." 
"  Til  Urban  ?  brother  myn  Valirian," 
Quod  Tiburce,  "  wilt  thou  me  thider  lede  ? 
Me  thenketh  that  it  were  a  wonder  dede. 

tt  Ne  menist  thou  nat  Urban,"  quod  he  tho, 
"  That  is  so  ofte  dampned  V>  the  deed, 
And  woneth  in  halkes  alway  to  arid  fro, 
And  dar  nought  oones  putte  forth  his  heed  ?  12240 

Men  schold  him  brenne  in  a  fuyr  so  reed, 

awkwardly,  are  translated  almost  literally  from  the  Latin  legend,  in  which 
Tyiwhitt  supposes  them  to  liave  been  originally  an  interpolation. 

lli-37.  Ne  metiisl.     L)i:  illo  Urbano  die-is,  qui  lotions  damnatuseet,  et  vlhuo 
la  latebru  commoratur?-  Lat.  Leg. 


THE  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  337 


If  he  were  founde,  or  if  men  might  him  tpye, 
And  we  also  to  bere  him  companye. 

"  And  whil  we  seken  thilke  divinite, 
That  is  i-hyd  iri  heveri  prively, 
Algate  i-brent  in  this  world  schuld  we  be." 
To  whom  Cecilie  answerde  boldely, 
Men  mighten  dreden  wel  and  skilfully 
This  lyf  to  lese,  rnyn  oughne  dere  brother, 
If  this  were  lyvyng  oonly  and  noon  other.  I225fl 

"  But  ther  is  better  lit'  in  other  place, 
That  never  schal  be  lost,  ne  drede  the  nought  • 
Which  Goddes  sone  us  tolde  thurgh  his  grace, 
That  fadres  sone  that  alle  thing  hath  wrought  ; 
And  al  that  wrought  is  with  a  skilful  thought, 
The  gost,  that  from  the  fader  gan  precede, 
Hath  sowled  hem  withouten  eny  drede. 

"  By  word  and  miracle  hihe  Goddes  sone, 
Whan  he  was  in  this  world,  declared  heere, 
That  ther  was  other  lyf  ther  men  may  wone."       12200 
To  whom  answerde  Tyburce,  "  O  suster  deere, 
Ney  seydest  thcu  right  now  in  this  manere, 
Ther  nys  but  oon  God,  o  Lord,  in  sothfastnesse, 
And  now  of  thre  how  maystow  bere  witriesse  ?" 

"  That  schal  I  telle,"  quod  sche,  "  er  that  I  go. 
Right  as  a  man  hath  sapiences  thre, 
Memorie,  engin,  and  intellect  also, 
So  in  oo  being  in  divinite 
Thre  persones  may  ther  right  wel  be." 
Tho  gan  sche  him  ful  besily  to  preche  12270 

Of  Cristes  come,  and  of  his  peynes  teche, 

And  many  pointes  of  his  passiouri  ; 
How  Goddes  sone  in  this  world  was  withholde 
To  doon  mankynde  pleyn  remissioun, 
That  was  i-bounde  in  synne  and  cares  colde. 
Al  this  thing  sche  unto  Tyburce  tolde, 
And  after  this  Tyburce  in  good  entente, 
With  Valiriaii  to  pope  Urban  he  wente, 

That  thanked  God,  and  with  glad  hert  and  light 
He  cristened  him,  and  made  him  in  that  place        .2280 
Parfyt  in  his  lernynge,  Goddes  knyght. 
And  after  this  Tiburce  gat  such  grace, 

12247.  boldely.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  boflyly. 

12266.  sapiences  thre.  In  the  original  Latin  it  is,  Respondit  Cecilia,  Sicut 
In  una  honunis  eapientia  sunt  tria,  scilicet  ingeniuin,  memoria,  etintellectus, 
Bic  in  una  divinitatis  essentia  tree  person*  esse  possent.  In  1.  15807,  the 
Harl.  Ms.  read*,  erroneously  eye n  for  engin. 

12271.  come.  So  the  Harl.  Ms.,  correctly.  In  the  Lat.  legend  it  is,  Tuiie 
cepit  ei  de  adventu  ulii  Dei  et  pausioue  pnedicare.  Tyrwhitt  reads  sfide. 


338  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  every  day  he  say  in  tyme  and  space 
The  aurigel  of  God,  and  every  maner  boonf 
That  he  God  asked,  it  was  sped  ful  soone. 

It  were  ful  hard  by  ordre  for  to  sayne 
How  many  wondres  Jesus  for  hem  wroughte  ; 
But  atte  last,  to  tellen  schort  and  playne, 
The  sergeantz  of  the  toun  of  Rome  hem  soughte, 
And  hem  byforn  Almache  the  prefect  broughte,     1229$ 
Which  hem  apposed,  and  knew  alle  here  entente, 
And  to  the  ymage  of  Jubiter  hew  sente  ; 

And  saide,  "  Who  so  wil  not  sacrifise, 
Swope  of  his  heved,  this  rny  sentence  heere." 
Anoon  these  martires,  that  I  you  devyse, 
Oon  Maximus,  that  was  an  officere 
Of  the  prefectes,  and  his  corniculere, 
Hem  hent,  and  whan  he  forth  the  seyntes  ladde, 
Him  self  he  wept  for  pite  that  he  hadde. 

Whan  Maximus  had  herd  the  seintes  lore,          12300 
He  gat  him  of  his  tormentoures  leve, 
And  bad  hem  to  his  hous  withouten  more  ; 
And  with  her  preching,  er  that  it  were  eve 
Thay  gonne  fro  the  tormentoures  to  reve, 
And  fro  Maxime,  and  fro  his  folk  echoone, 
The  false  faith,  to  trowe  in  God  alloone. 

Cecilie  cam,  whan  it  was  waxen  night 
With  prestis,  that  hem  cristenid  alle  in  feere  ; 
And  afterward,  whan  day  was  waxen  light, 
Cecilie  hem  sayde  with  a  ful  stedefast  chere  ;          12310 
"  Now,  Cristes  owne  knyghtes  leef  arid  deere, 
Cast  al  away  the  werkes  of  derknes, 
And  armith  you  in  armur  of  brightnes. 

"Ye  han  forsothe  y-doon  a  greet  batayle  : 
Youre  cours  is  doon,  your  faith  han  ye  conserved  t 
Goth  to  the  coroun  of  lyf  that  may  not  fayle  ; 
The  rightful  jugge,  which  that  ye  han  served, 
Schal  geve  it  yow,  as  ye  han  it  deserved." 
And  whan  this  thing  was  sayd,  as  I  devyse, 
Men  ladde  hem  forth  to  doon  the  saerifise.  232C 

But  whan  they  were  to  the  place  y-brought 
To  telle  schortly  the  coiiclusioun, 
They  nolde  encense  ne  sacrifice  right  nought, 
But  on  her  knees  they  setten  hem  adoun, 
With  humble  hert  and  sad  devocioun, 
And  leften  bothe  her  heedes  in  that  place  ; 

12297.  curniculere.    The  Harl.  Mb.  has  counctilere. 

12302.  bad.    Tyrwhitt  reads  lad ;  and  the  Lansd.  MB.  ha«  hadde. 


THE  SECOUNDE  XONNES  TALE.  339 

Here  soules  wenten  to  the  king  of  grace. 

This  Maximus,  that  say  this  thing  betyde, 
With  pitous  teeres  tolde  it  anoon  right, 
Thai  he  here  soules  saugli  to  heveri  glyde  12330 

Witl  aungels,  ful  of  denies  and  of  light ; 
And  with  his  word  converted  many  a  wight. 
For  which  Alinachius  dede  him  so  bete 
With  whippes  of  leed,  til  he  his  life  gan  lete. 

Cecilie  him  took,  and  buried  him  anoon 
By  Tiburce  and  Valirian  softely, 
Withinne  hire  berieng  place,  under  the  stoon. 
And  after  this  Alinachius  hastily 
Bad  his  mini^tres  fecchen  openly 

Cecilie,  so  that  sche  might  in  his  presence  12340 

l)oon  sacrifice,  and  Jubiter  encense. 

But  they,  converted  at  hir  wise  lore, 
Wepten  ful  sore,  and  gaven  ful  credence 
Unto  hir  word,  and  cryden  more  and  more  , 
"  Crist,  Goddes  sone,  without  difference, 
Is  verray  God,  this  is  al  oure  sentence, 
That  hath  so  good  a  servaunt  him  to  serve  ; 
Thus  with  oon  vois  we  trowen,  though  we  sterve.' 

Alinachius,  that  herd  of  this  doynge, 
Bad  fecchen  Cecilie,  that  he  might  hir  se  ;  12350 

And  alther-first,  lo,  this  was  his  axinge  ; 
"  What  maner  womman  art  thou  ?  "  quod  he. 
"  I  am  a  gentil-womman  bom,"  quod  sche. 
"  I  axe  the,"  quod  he,  "  though  the  it  greve, 
Of  thi  religioun  and  of  thi  byleve." 

"  Ye  han  bygonne  your  questioun  folily," 
Quod  sche,  "  that  woi^'ii  tuo  answers  conclude 
Ic  oo  demaunde ;  ye  axen  lewedly." 
Almache  answerde  to  that  similitude, 
"  Qf  whans  cometh  thin  answering  so  rude  ?  "        12360 
"  Of  whens?"  quod  sche,  whan  sche  was  i-freyned, 
"Of  conscience,  and  of  good  faith  unfeyned." 
•  Almachius  sayde,  "  Takest  thou  noon  hecde 

Of  my  power  ?  "  arid  sche  answerde  him  this  ; 
u  Toure  might,"  quod  sche,  "  ful  litel  is  to  drede  j 
For  every  mortal  mannes  power  nys 
But  lyk  a  bladder  ful  of  wynd  i-wis  ; 
For  with  a  nedeles  poyiit,  whan  it  is  blowe, 
May  al  the  bost  of  it  be  layd  ful  lowe." 

12333-  go  bete.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  has  so  to-bete ;  and  xyrwhitt  adopta  Aedt 
Wm  to-bete. 

12334.  whippes  of  leed.  Eum  plumbatis  taindiu  cood.'  1'ecit  quoueque  spir. 
itum  excussit. — Lat.  Leg. 


340  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"Ful  wrongfully  bygonnest  thou,"  quod  he,     12370 
"  And  yet  in  wrong  is  thy  perseveraunce. 
Wostow  nought  how  oure  mighty  princes  fre 
Han  thus  cornaunded  and  maad  ordinaunce, 
That  every  cristen  wight  sehal  han  penaunce, 
But  if  that  he  his  Cristendom  withseye, 
And  goon  al  quyt,  if  he  wil  it  reneye  ?  " 

"  Youre  princes  erre,  as  youre  nobleye  doth," 
Quod  tho  Cecilie ;   "  and  with  a  wood  sentence 
Ye  make  us  gulty,  and  it  is  nought  soth  ; 
For  ye  that  knowen  wel  oure  innocence,  12380 

Forasmoche  as  we  doon  ay  reverence 
To  Crist,  and  for  we  bere  a  Cristen  name, 
Ye  putten  on  us  a  crim  arid  eek  a  blame. 

"  But  we  that  knowen  thilke  name  so 
For  vertuous,  we  may  it  not  withseye." 
Almache  sayde,  "  Cheese  oon  of  these  tuo, 
Do  sacrifice  or  Cristendom  reneye, 
That  thou  mow  now  eschapen  by  that  weye." 
At  which  the  holy  blisful  faire  mayde 
Gan  for  to  laughe,  and  to  the  jugge  sayde ;  1239C 

"  O  jugge  confus  in  this  nycete, 
Wilt  thou  that  I  refuse  innocence  ? 
To  make  me  a  wikked  wight,"  quod  sche. 
"  Lo,  he  dissimuleth  heer  in  audience, 
He  starith  and  woodith  in  his  advertence." 
To  whom  Almachius  sayde,  "  Unsely  wrecche, 
Ne  wostow  nought  how  fer  my  might  may  strecche  ? 
Han  nought  our  mighty  princes  to  me  y-given, 
Ye  bothe  power  and  eek  auctorite 

To  maken  folk  to  deyen  or  to  lyven  ?  12400 

Why  spekestow  so  proudly  than  to  me  ?  " 
"  I  speke  not  but  stedefastly,"  quod  sche, 
"  Nought  proudly,  for  I  say,  as  for  my  syde, 
We  haten  deedly  thilke  vice  of  pryde. 

And  if  thou  drede  nought  a  soth  to  heere, 
Than  wol  I  schewe  al  openly  by  right, 
That  thou  hast  maad  a  ful  greet  lesyng  heere. 
Thou  saist,  thy  princes  han  i-give  the  might 
Bothe  for  to  sleen  and  eek  to  quike  a  wight, 
Thou  that  ne  maist  but  oonly  lif  byreve,  18410 

Thou  hast  noon  other  power  ne  no  love. 

"  But  thou  maist  sayn,  thi  princes  han  the  inaked 
Minister  of  deth  :  for  if  thou  speke  of  moo 
Thow  liest ;  for  thy  power  is  ful  naked." 
"  Do  way  thy  lewednes,"  sayd  Almachius  thot 
12415    lewednes.    The  Laned.  Ms.  reads  bolde.net. 


TUD  SECOUNDE  NONNES  TALE.  341 


"  And  sacrifice  to  cure  goddes,  er  tliou  go. 

I  reoche  nought  what  wrong  that  thou  ine  profre, 

For  I  can  suffre  it  as  a  philosophre. 

"But  thilke  wronges  may  I  not  endure, 
That  thou  spekis  of  oure  goddis  her,"  quod  he.      12420 
Cecilie  answered,  "  O  nice  creature, 
Thou  saydest  no  word  sins  thou  spak  to  me, 
That  I  ne  knew  therwith  thy  nicete, 
And  that  thou  were  in  every  maner  wise 
A  lewed  officer,  a  vein  jnstise. 

"  Ther  lakketh  no  thing  to  thin  outer  eyen 
That  thou  art  blynde  ;  for  thing  that  we  seen  allo 
That  it  is  stoon,  that  men  may  wel  aspien, 
That  ilke  stoon  a  god  thou  wilt  it  calle. 
I  rede  the,  let  thin  hond  upon  it  falle,  12430 

And  tast  it  wel,  and  stoon  thou  schalt  it  fynde  ; 
Sith  that  thou  seest  not  with  thin  eyghen  blynde. 

"  It  is  a  schame  that  the  poeple  schal 
So  scorne  the,  and  laughe  at  thi  folye  ; 
For  comunly  men  woot  it  we]  over  al, 
That  mighty  God  is  in  his  heven  hye  ; 
And  these  ymages,  wel  thou  mayst  espie, 
To  the  ne  to  hem  self  may  nought  profyte, 
For  in  effect  they  ben  nought  worth  a  myte." 

Thise  wordes  and  such  other  sayde  sche  ;  1244CI 

And  he  wax  wroth,  and  bad  men  schold  hir  lede 
Horn  to  hir  hous  ;  "  And  in  hir  hous,"  quod  he, 
"  Brenne  hir  right  in  a  bath  of  flammes  rede." 
And  as  he  bad,  right  so  was  doon  the  dede  ; 
For  in  a  bath  thay  gonne  hir  faste  schetteri, 
And  nyght  and  day  greet  fuyr  they  under  betten. 

The  longe  night,  and  eek  a  day  also, 
For  al  the  fuyr,  and  eek  the  bathes  hete, 
Sche  sat  al  cold,  and  felte  of  it  no  woo, 
It  made  hir  not  oon  drope  for  to  swete.  1245^ 

But  in  that  bath  hir  lif  sche  moste  lete  ; 
For  he  Alniachius,  with  ful  wikke  entente, 
To  sleen  hir  in  the  bath  his  sondes  sente. 

Thre  strokes  in  the  nek  he  smot  hir  tho 
The  tormentour,  but  for  no  maner  chaunce 
He  might  nought  smyte  hir  faire  riecke  a-tuo. 
And  for  ther  was  that  tyme  an  ordinaunce 
That  no  man  scholde  do  man  such  penaunce 
The  ferthe  strok  to  smyten,  softe  or  sore, 
This  tormentour  ne  dorste  do  no  more  ;  1240C 

But  half  deed,  with  hir  nekke  corven  there 
He  laft  hir  lye,  and  on  his  way  he  went. 


342  TUB  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

The  cristen  folk,  which  that  about  hir  were, 
With  scheetes  han  the  blood  ful  faire  y-hent ; 
Thre  dayes  lyved  sche  in  this  torment, 
Arid  never  cessed  hem  the  faith  to  teche, 
That  sche  had  frostred  hem,  sche  gan  to  preche. 

And  hem  sche  gaf  Uir  inoebles  and  hir  "liing, 
And  to  the  pope  Urban  by  took  hern  tho, 
And  sayd,  "  I  axe  this  of  heven  kyng,  13479 

To  have  respit  thre  dayes  and  no  mo. 
To  recomende  to  yow,  er  that  I  go, 
These  soules  lo,  and  that  I  mighte  do  wirche 
Heer  of  myft  hous  perpetuelly  a  chircho." 

Seynt  Urban,  with  his  dekenes  prively 
The  body  fette,  and  buried  it  by  nighte 
Among  his  other  seyrites  honestely. 
Hir  hous  the  chirch  of  seynt  Cecily  yit  highte  ; 
Seynt  Urban  halwed  it,  as  he  wel  mighte ; 
In  which  into  this  day  in  noble  wyse  12480 

Men  doon  to  Crist  and  to  his  seint  servise. 


THB  PROLOGH   OF  THE   CHANOUNS   YHMAU. 

WHAN  ended  was  the  lif  of  seynt  Cecile, 
Er  we  fully  had  riden  fyve  myle, 
At  Boughtoun  under  Blee  us  gan  atake 
A  man,  that  clothed  was  in  clothes  blake, 
And  under  that  he  had  a  whit  surplice, 
His  hakeney,  that  was  a  pomely  grice, 
So  swete,  that  it  wonder  was  to  se, 
It  seined  he  hadde  priked  myles  thre. 
The  hors  eek  that  his  yyman  rood  upon,  12490 

So  swette,  that  unnethes  might  he  goon. 
Aboute  the  peytrel  stood  the  foom  ful  hye, 
He  was  of  foom  as  flekked  as  a  pye. 
A  male  tweyfold  on  his  croper  lay, 
It  serried  that  he  caried  litel  array, 
Al  light  for  somer  rood  this  worthy  man. 
And  in  myn  herte  wondreri  I  bigan 
What  that  he  was,  til  that  I  understood, 
How  that  his  cloke  was  sowed  unto  his  hood  ; 
For  which  whan  I  long  had  avysed  me,  19500 

I  demed  him  som  chanouri  for  to  be. 
His  hat  heng  at  his  bak  doun  by  a  laas, 
For  he  had  riden  more  than  trot  or  paas, 

12467.  foatred.    The  Harl.  Ma.  has  sitffred. 


T5J1  PROLOGS  OF  THE  CHANOU3S  YEMAN.    343 

He  had  i-pryked  lik  as  he  were  wood. 

A  cloote-leef  he  had  under  his  hood 

For  swoot,  and  for  to  kepe  his  heed  from  hete. 

But  it  was  joye  for  to  so  him  swete  ; 

His  forhed  dropped  as  a  stillatorie 

Were  ful  of  plantayn  and  of  peritorie. 

And  whanne  that  he  was  com,  he  gan  to  crie,        12510 

"  God  save,"  quod  he,  "  this  joly  compciignye  I 

Fast  have  I  priked,"  quod  he,  "  for  your  sake, 

Bycause  that  I  wolde  you  atake, 

To  ryden  in  this  mery  companye." 

His  yemaii  eek  was  ful  of  curtesye, 
And  seid,  "  Sires,  now  in  the  morwe  tyde 
Out  of  your  ostelry  I  saugh  you  ryde, 
And  warned  heer  niy  lord  and  soverayn, 
Which  -that  to  ryden  with  yow  is  ful  fayn, 
For  his  desport ;  he  loveth  daliaunce."  12520 

"  Frend,  f  jr  thy  warnyng  God  geve  the  good  ehaunee." 
Sayde  ouve  host,  "  for  certes  it  wolde  seme 
Thy  lord  were  wys,  and  so  I  may  wel  deine  ; 
He  is  fui  jocound  also  dar  I  leye  ; 
Can  h<  ought  telle  a  mery  tale  or  tweye, 
With  which  he  glade  may  this  companye  ?  " 

"  Who,  sire?  my  lord?    Ye,  ye,  withoute  lye, 
He  can  of  merthe  and  eek  of  jolite 
Not  but  y-nough  ;  also,  sir,  trusteth  me, 
And  ye  him  knewe  as  wel  as  do  I,  12530 

Te  wolde  wonder  how  wel  and  thriftily 
He  couthe  werke,  and  that  in  sondry  wise. 
He  hath  take  on  him  many  sondry  emprise, 
Which  were  ful  hard  for  eny  that  is  heere 
To  bringe  aboute,  but  thay  of  him  it  leere. 
As  homely  as  he  ryt  amonges  yow, 
If  ye  him  knewe,  it  wolde  be  your  prow  ; 
Ye  nolde  nought  for-gon  his  acqueyntaunce 
For  moche  good,  I  dar  lay  in  balaunce 
Al  that  1  have  in  my  possessioun.  12510 

He  is  a  man  of  heigh  discressioun, 
I  wariie  yow  wel,  he  is  a  passyng  man." 

"  Wel,"  quod  our  oost,  "  I  pray  the,  tel  me  than, 
Is  he  a  clerk,  or  noon  ?  tell  what  he  is." 
"  Nay,  he  is  gretter  than  a  clerk  i-wis," 
Sayde  this  yyman,  "  and  in  wordes  fewe, 
Ost,  of  his  craft  somwhat  I  wil  you  schewe. 
I  say,  my  lord  can  such  a  subtilite, 
(But  al  his  craft  ye  may  nought  wite  of  me, 
And  somwhat  helpe  I  yit  to  his  worchynge),  12550 


344  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  al  this  ground  on  which  we  ben  ridynge 
Til  that  we  coinen  to  Caunterbury  toun, 
He  couthe  al  clene  turnen  up  so  doun, 
And  pave  it  al  of  silver  and  of  gold." 

And  whan  this  yeman  hadde  thus  i-told 
Unto  oure  oost,  he  seyde,  "  Bencdicite  ! 
This  thing  is  wonder  merveylous  to  me, 
Syn  that  this  lord  is  of  so  heigh  prudence, 
Bycause  of  which  men  schuld  him  reverence, 
That  of  his  worschip  rekketh  he  so  lite  ;  12560 

His  over  slop  it  is  not  worth  a  inyte 
As  in  effect  to  him,  so  mot  I  go  ; 
It  is  al  bawdy  and  to-tore  also. 
Why  is  thi  lord  so  slottisch,  I  the  preye, 
And  is  of  power  better  clothis  to  beye, 
If  that  his  dede  accorde  with  thy  speche  ? 
Telle  me  that,  and  that  I  the  biseche." 

"  Why  ?  "  quod  this  yiman,   "  wherto  axe  y«  me  ? 
God  help  me  so,  for  he  schal  never  the, 
(But  I  wol  nought  avowe  what  I  say,  12570 

And  therfor  kep  it  secre  I  yow  pray) 
He  is  to  wys  in  faith,  as  I  bileve. 
Thing  that  is  over-don,  it  wil  nought  preve 
Aright,  as  clerkes  sein,  it  is  a  vice  ', 
Wherfore  in  that  I  holde  him  lewed  and  nyce. 
For  whan  a  man  hath  over-greet  a  witte, 
Ful  ofte  him  happeth  to  mysusen  itte  ; 
So  doth  my  lord,  and  that  me  greveth  sore. 
God  it  amende,  I  can  say  now  nomore." 
"  Therof  no  fors,  good  yeman,"  quod  oure  ost,       12580 
"  Syn  of  the  connyng  of  thi  lord  thou  wost, 
Tel  how  he  doth,  1  pray  the  hertily, 
Sin  that  he  is  so  crafty  and  so  sly. 
Wher  dwellen  ye,  if  it  to  telle  be  ?  " 
"  In  the  subarbes  of  a  toun,"  quod  he, 
"  Lurking  in  hirnes  and  in  lanes  blynde, 
Wher  as  these  robbours  and  these  theves  by  kynd« 
Holden  here  prive  ferful  residence, 
As  thay  that  dor  nought  schewen  her  presence  ; 
Bo  faren  we,  if  I  schal  say  the  so  the."  1259C 

"  Now,"  quod  oure  ost,  "  yit  let  me  talke  to  the  ; 
Why  artow  so  discoloured  on  thy  face  ?" 
"  Peter  I  "  quod  he,  "  God  give  it  harde  grace, 
I  am  so  used  the  fuyr  to  blowe, 
That  it  hath  chaunged  my  colour  I  trowe  ; 
I  am  not  wont  in  no  mirour  to  prie, 
But  swynke  sore,  arid  lerne  to  multiplie. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  CHANOUNS  TEMAN.    345 

We  blondren  ever,  and  pouren  in  the  fuyr, 

And  for  al  that  we  faile  of  oure  desir, 

For  ever  we  lacken  oure  conclusioun.  12600 

To  moche  folk  we  ben  illusioun, 

And  borwe  gold,  be  it  a  pound  or  tuo, 

Or  ten  or  twelve,  or  many  sornrnes  ino, 

And  make  hern  wenen  atte  leste  weye, 

That  of  a  pound  we  conne  make  tweye. 

Yit  it  is  fals ;  and  ay  we  han  good  hope. 

It  for  to  doori,  and  after  it  we  grope. 

But  that  science  is  so  fer  us  biforn, 

We  mowen  nought,  although  we  had  it  sworn, 

It  overtake.it  slyt  away  so  fast ;  12610 

It  wol  us  make  beggers  atte  last." 

Whil  this  yeman  was  thus  in  his  talkyng, 
This  chanoun  drough  him  ner  and  herd  al  thing 
Which  that  this  yiman  spak,  for  suspeccioun 
Of  mennes  speche  ever  hadde  this  chanoun  ; 
For  Catoun  saith,  that  he  that  gulty  is, 
Demeth  al  thing  be  spoke  of  him,  i-wis  ; 
By  cause  of  that  he  gan  so  neigh  to  drawe 
His  yeman,  that  he  herde  al  his  sawe  ; 
And  thus  he  sayd  unto  his  yeman  tho  j  12620 

"  Hold  now  thi  pees,  and  spek  no  wordes  mo  ; 
For  if  thou  do,  thou  sehalt  it  deere  abye. 
Thou  sclaundrest  me  here  in  this  coinpanye, 
And  eek  discoverest  that  thou  schuldest  hide." 
"  Ye,"  quod  oure  ost,  "  tel  on,  what  so  bytyde  ; 
Of  alle  this  thretyng  recche  the  nought  a  rayte." 
"  In  faith,"  quod  he,  "  no  more  do  I  but  lite." 
And  whan  this  Chanoun  seih  it  wold  not  be, 
But  his  yeman  wold  telle  his  privete, 
He  fledde  away  for  verray  sorwe  and  schame.         12630 
"  A  1  "  quod  the  yeman,  "  her  schal  arise  game  ; 
Al  that  I  can  anoon  now  wol  I  teile, 
Sin  he  is  goon  ;  the  foule  feerid  him  quelle  1 
For  never  herafter  wol  I  with  him  meete 
For  peny  ne  for  pound,  I  wol  byheete. 
He  that  me  broughte  first  unto  that  game, 
Er  that  he  deye,  sorwe  have  he  and  schame  ! 
For  it  is  ernest  to  me,  by  my  faith  ; 
That  fele  1  wel,  what  so  eny  man  saith ; 
And  yet  foi  al  my  smert,  and  al  my  greef,  12640' 

For  al  my  sorwe,  and  labour,  and  mescheef, 

I26V6.  Calowi  sailfi.     The  allusion  is  to  Gilo  de  Morib.  lib.  i.  dlstlcli  17,- 
Ne  cures  si  quis  tar.ito  sermone  loquatur  ; 
Coniciu.-i  ipse  silr  do  se  putat  umnia  dici. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  couthe  never  leve  it  in  no  wise. 

Nor  wolde  God  my  wyt  mighte  suffise 

To  tellen  al  that  longeth  to  that  art  ; 

Eut  natheies,  yet  wil  I  telle  yow  part; 

Sin  that  my  lord  is  goon,  I  wol  nought  spare, 

Such  thing  as  that  I  knowe,  I  wol  declare. 

"  With  this  chanoun  I  duelled  have  seven  yer, 
And  of  his  science  am  I  never  the  ner  ; 
Al  that  I  hadde,  I  have  lost  therby,  12G50 

A  nd  God  wot,  so  hath  many  mo  than  I. 
Ther  I  was  wont  to  be  right  freisch  and  gay 
Of  clothing,  and  of  other  good  array, 
Now  may  I  were  an  hose  upon  myn  heed  ; 
And  where  my  colour  was  bothe  freissch  and  reed, 
Now  it  is  wan,  and  of  a  leden  he  we, 
(Who  so  it  useth,  sore  schal  he  rewe)  ; 
And  of  my  swynk  yet  blended  is  myn  ye  ; 
Lo  !  such  avauritage  it  is  to  multiplie  ! 
That  slydynge  science  had  me  made  so  bare,          12660 
That  I  have  no  good,  wher  that  ever  I  fare  ; 
And  yit  I  am  endetted  so  therby 
Of  gold,  that  I  have  borwed  trewely, 
That  whil  I  lyve  schal  I  quite  never; 
Lat  every  man  be  war  by  me  for  ever. 
What  inaner  man  that  casteth  him  therto, 
If  he  continue,  I  holde  his  thrift  i-do  ; 
So  help  me  God,  therby  schal  he  not  wynne, 
But  empte  his  purs,  and  make  his  wittes  thynne. 
And  whan  he,  thurgh  his  madnes  and  folye,          12670 
Hath  lost  his  owne  good  in  jeupardie, 
Than  he  exciteth  other  men  therto, 
To  lesse  her  good,  as  he  himself  hath  do. 
For  unto  schrewes  joy  it  is  and  ese 
To  have  here  felawes  in  peyrie  and  desese. 
Thus  was  I  oones  lerned  of  a  clerk  ; 
Of  that  no  charge  ;  I  wol  speke  of  oure  werk. 
Whan  we  ben  ther  as  we  schul  exercise 
Oure  elvyssh  craft,  we  seme  wonder  wyse, 
Oure  terme?  ben  so  clergeal  and  queynte.  12680 

I  blo»  e  uie  fuyr  til  that  myn  herte  feynte. 
TVLd.t  schulde  I  telle  ech  proporcion 
Of  thiriges  which  that  we  werke  up  and  doun, 
As  on  fyve  or  six  ounces,  may  wel  be, 
Of  silver,  or  som  other  quantity  ? 
And  besy  me  to  tell  you  the  names, 
As  orpiment,  brent  bones,  yern  squames, 
That  into  poudre  grounden  ben  f  ul  smal  ? 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  CHANOUNS  YEMAN.    347 

And  in  an  erthen  pot  how  put  is  al, 

And  salt  y-put  in,  and  also  paupere,  12690 

Biforn  these  poudres  that  I  speke  of  heere. 

And  wel  i-covered  with  a  lamp  of  glas  ? 

And  of  moche  other  thing  what  that  ther  was  > 

And  of  the  pot  and  glas  enlutyng, 

That  of  the  aier  mighte  passe  no  thing  ? 

And  of  the  esy  fuyr,  and  smert  also, 

Which  that  was  inaad  ?  and  of  the  care  and  W0| 

That  we  hadde  in  oure  matiers  sublymynge, 

And  in  ainalgamynge,  and  calcenynge 

Of  quyksilver,  y-clept  mercury  crude?  12700 

For  alle  oure  sleightes  we  can  nought  conclude. 

Oure  orpiment,  and  sublyment  mercurie, 

Oure  grounde  litarge  eek  on  the  porfurye 

Of  ech,of  these  of  ounces  a  certayn 

Nat  helpeth  us,  oure  labour  is  in  vayn. 

Ne  eek  our  spirites  ascencioun, 

Ne  eek  oure  matiers  that  lyn  al  fix  adoun, 

Mowe  in  oure  werkyng  us  no  thing  avayle  ; 

For  lost  is  al  oure  labour  and  travayle, 

And  al  the  cost  on  twenty  devel  way  12710 

Is  lost  also,  which  we  upon  it  lay. 

Ther  is  also  ful  many  another  thing, 

That  is  to  oure  craft  appertenyng, 

Though  I  by  ordre  hem  here  reherse  ne  can, 

Bycause  that  I  am  a  lewed  man, 

Yet  wil  I  telle  hem,  as  they  come  to  mynde, 

Though  I  ne  conne  nought  sette  hem  in  her  kynde  ; 

As  bol  armoniak,  verdegres,  boras  ; 

And  sondry  vessels  maad  of  erthe  and  glas, 

Oure  urinals  and  oure  descensories,  12720 

Viols,  croslets,  and  sublimatories, 

Concurbites,  and  alembikes  eeke, 

And  othere  suche,  deere  y-nough  a  leeke, 

Nat  needith  it  to  rehersen  hem  alle ; 

Watres  rubifying,  and  boler  galle, 

Arsnek,  sal  armoniak,  and  brimstoon. 

And  herbes  couthe  I  telle  eek  many  oon, 

As  egrimoigne,  valiriau,  and  lunarie, 

And  other  suche,  if  that  me  list  to  tarie  ; 

Oure  lampes  brennyng  bothe  night  and  day,          12780 


12694.  pot  and  gla».  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harleian  and  Lansdowu* 
«.  Tyrwhitt  reads  pottes  and  glasses  engluting,  which  seems  to  ii>.proT« 
3  metre. 

12T02.  sublyment.    The  Lansd.  MB.,  with  Tyrwhitt,  reads  tubhnta 
12725.  rubifying.    Ms.  Harl.  reads  rulisynu. 


MBt.    Ty 
the  metre 


348  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


To  bringe  aboute  oure  craft  if  that  we  may  ; 

Oure  fourneys  eek  of  calcinacinuu, 

And  of  waters  albificacioun, 

Unslekked  lyin,  salt,  and  glayre  of  an  ey, 

Poudres  dyvers,  aissches,  dong,  pisse,  and  cley, 

Cered  poketts,  sal  petre,  vitriole  ; 

And  dyvers  fuyres  maad  of  woode  and  cole  j 

Salt  tartre,  alcaly,  and  salt  preparat, 

And  combust  matieres,  and  coagulat  ; 

Cley  maad  with  hors  or  mannes  her,  and  oyle        12740 

Of  tartre,  alyrn,  glas,  berm,  wort,  and  argoyle, 

Resalgar,  and  oure  matiers  enbibing  ; 

And  eek  of  oure  matiers  encorporing, 

And  of  oure  silver  citrinacioun, 

Oure  cementynge  and  fermentacioun, 

Oure  yngottes,  testes,  and  many  thinges  mo. 

I  wol  you  telle  as  was  me  taught  also 

The  foure  spiritz,  and  the  bodies  seven 

By  ordre,  as  ofte  herd  I  my  lord  neven. 

The  firste  spirit  quyksilver  called  is  ;  12750 

The  secound  orpinient  ;  the  thridde  i-wis 

Sal  armoniac,  and  the  ferthe  bremstoon. 

The  bodies  seven,  eek,  lo  hem  heer  anoon. 

Sol  gold  is,  and  Luna  silver  we  threpe  ; 

Mars  yren,  Mercurie  quyksilver  we  clepe  ; 

Saturnus  leed,  and  Jubitur  is  tyn, 

And  Venus  coper,  by  my  fader  kyn. 

"  This  cursed  craft  who  so  wol  exercise, 
lie  schal  no  good  han  that  may  him  suffise 
For  al  the  good  he  spendeth  theraboute  12760 

He  lese  schal,  thereof  have  I  no  doute. 
Who  so  that  list  outen  his  folye, 
Let  him  come  forth  and  lerne  multiplie  ; 
And  every  man  that  hath  ought  in  his  cofre, 
Let  him  appiere,  and  wexe  a  philosofre, 
Ascauns  that  craft  is  so  light  to  lere. 
Nay,  nay,  God  wot,  al  be  he  monk  or  frere, 
Prest  or  chanouri,  or  eny  other  wight, 
Though  he  sit  at  his  book  bothe  day  and  night 
In  lernyng  of  this  elvysch  nice  lore,  12770 

Al  is  in  vayn,  and  parde  uioche  more 
Is  to  lerne  a  lewed  man  this  subtilte  ; 
Fy,  spek  not  therof,  for  it  wil  not  be. 
Al  couthe  he  letterure,  or  couthe  he  noon, 

12732,  fourneys.    The  Ms.  Harl.  appears  to  read/ourmes  ,•  but  Ms. 
adb/orw^ys,  which  is  adopted  by  Tyrwhilt,  and  seems  to  be  correct. 
li-'TiH.  suit.   The  Lansd.  .Ma.,  with  TyrwhiU,  reads  chalk. 


THE  PROLOGE  OF  TELE  CHAN&UNS  YEMAN.    349 


As  in  effect,  lie  schal  fyud  it  al  oon  ; 

For  bothe  tuo  by  my  salvacioun 

Concluden  in  multiplicacioun 

I-liche  \vel,  whan  tliay  ban  al  y-do  ; 

This  is  to  sayn,  thay  fayle  bothe  tuo 

Yet  forgat  I  to  make  rehersayle  12780 

Of  watres  corosif,  and  of  lyuiayle, 

And  of  bodyes  mollificacioun. 

And  also  of  here  enduraoioun, 

Oyles  ablucioun,  and  metal  fusible, 

To  tellen  al,  wold  passe n  eny  bible 

That  o  wher  is  ;  wherfore,  as  for  the  best, 

Of  alle  these  names  now  wil  I  me  rest ; 

For,  as  I  trowe,  I  have  yow  told  y-nowe 

To  reyse  a  feend,  al  loke  he  never  so  rowe. 

A,  nay,  let  be  ;  the  philosophre  stoon,  12790 

Elixir  clept,  we  secheri  fast  echoon, 

For  had  we  him,  than  were  we  syker  y-nough  ; 

But  unto  God  of  ueven  1  make  avow, 

For  al  oure  craft,  whan  we  han  al  y-do, 

And  al  oure  sleight,  he  wol  not  come  us  to. 

He  hath  i-made  us  spende  moche  good, 

For  sorwe  of  which  almost  we  wexen  wood, 

.But  that  good  hope  crepeth  in  oure  herte, 

Supposing  ever,  though  we  sore  smerte, 

To  ben  relieved  by  him  alfer-ward.  12806 

Such  supposing  and  hope  is  scharp  and  hard. 

1  warne  you  wel  it  is  to  seken  ever. 

That  future  temps  hath  made  men  dissevere, 

In  trust  therof,  from  al  that  ever  they  hadde. 

Yet  of  that  art  thay  conne  nought  wexe  sadd*, 

For  unto  hem  it  is  a  bitter  swete  ; 

So  seineth  it ;  for  uad  they  but  a  scheete 

Which  thay  mighte  wrappe  hem  in  a-night, 

And  a  bak  to  walke  inne  by  day-light,  12809 

They  wolde  hem  selle,  and  spenden  on  this  craft  ; 

Thay  can  nought  stinte,  til  no  thing  be  laft. 

And  evermore,  wher  that  ever  they  goon, 

Men  may  hem  knowe  by  smel  of  bremstoon; 

For  al  the  world  thay  stynken  as  a  goot  j 

Her  savour  is  so  rammyssch  and  so  hoot, 

That  though  a  man  fro  hem  a  myle  be, 

The  savour  wol  infecte  him,  trusteth  me. 

Lo,  thus  by  smullyng  and  by  thred-bare  array, 

If  that  men  list,  this  folk  they  knowe  may. 

12809.  bak.    This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  Lan»d.  Mb*      TyrwhiB 
re*d»  bruit,  which  ho  interpret**  a  coarse  mantle. 


850  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  if  a  man  wol  aske  hem  prively,  12820 

Why  thay  ben  clothed  so  unthriftily, 

Right  anoon  thay  wol  rounen  in  his  eere, 

And  say,  if  that  thay  espied  were, 

Men  wold  hern  slee,  bycause  of  here  science  ; 

Lo,  th  is  this  folk  bytrayen  innocence. 

Passe  over  this,  I  go  my  tale  unto. 

Er  than  the  pet  be  on  the  fnyr  y-do 

Of  metals  with  a  certeyn  quantite. 

My  lord  hem  tempreth,  and  no  man  but  he  ; 

(Now  he  is  goon,  I  dar  say  boldely)  12880 

For  as  men  sayn,  he  can  doon  craftily  ; 

Algate  I  wot  wel  he  hath  such  a  name, 

And  yet  ful  ofte  he  renneth  in  blame  ; 

"  And  wite  ye  how  ?  ful  ofte  it  happeth  so, 
The  pot  to-breketh,  and  farwel  all  is  goo. 
These  metals  been  of  so  gret  violence, 
Oure  walles  may  not  make  hem  resistence, 
But  if  thay  were  wrought  of  lym  and  stoon ; 
Thay  percen  so,  that  thurgh  the  wall  thay  goon  ; 
And  some  of  hem  synken  into  the  grounde,  12840 

(Thus  have  we  lokt  by  tymes  many  a  pounde), 
And  some  are  skatered  al  the  floor  aboute  ; 
Some  lepe  into  the  roof,  withouten  doute. 
Though    that  the  feend   nought  in   oure  sight  him 

schewe, 

I  trowe  that  he  with  us  be,  that  schrewe  ; 
In  helle,  wher  that  he  is  lord  and  sire, 
Nis  ther  no  more  woo,  ne  anger,  ne  ire. 
Whan  that  oure  pot  is  broke,  as  I  have  sayd, 
Every  man  chyt,  and  halt  him  evel  apayde, 
Som  sayd  it  was  long  on  the  fuyr-makyng .  12850 

Lome  sayde  nay,  it  was  on  the  blowyng  ; 
(Than  was  I  ferd,  for  that  was  myn  office). 
'  Straw  !  '  quod  the  thridde,  '  ye  been  lewed  and  nyce, 
It  was  nought  tempred  as  it  oughte  be.' 
'  Nay,'  quod  the  ferthe,  '  styrit  and  herkne  me  ; 
Bycause  oure  fuyr  was  nought  y-maad  of  beech, 
That  is  the  cause,  and  other  noon,  so  theech.' 
1  can  not  telle  Avhereon  it  was  long, 
But  wel  I  woot  gret  stryf  is  us  among. 
'  What  ?  '  quod  my  lord,  '  ther  is  no  more  to  dooue, 
Of  these  periles  I  wol  be  war  eftsoone. 
I  am  right  siker,  that  the  pot  was  erased. 
Be  as  be  may,  be  ye  no  thing  amased. 
As  usage  is,  let  swoope  the  floor  as  swithe  ; 
Pluk  up  your  hertes  and  beth  glad  and  blithe.' 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  CHANOUNS  TEMAN. 


The  mullok  on  an  heep  i-swoped  was 

And  on  the  floor  y-cast  a  canevas, 

And  al  this  mulloc  in  a  syve  i-throwe, 

And  sifted,  and  y-plukked  many  a  throwe. 

'  Parde,'  quod  oon,  '  somwhat  of  oure  metal  18871 

Yet  is  ther  heer,  though  that  we  have  nought  al. 

And  though  this  thing  niyshapped  hath  as  now, 

Another  tyme  it  may  be  wel  y-now. 

Us  moste  putte  oure  good  in  adventure. 

A  marchaunt,  parde,  may  not  ay  endure, 

Trusteth  me  wel,  in  his  prosperite  ; 

Som  tyme  his  good  is  drowned  in  the  see, 

And  som  tyme  cometh  it  sauf  unto  the  londe,' 

'  Pees  ! '  quod  my  lord,  '  the  nexte  tyrne  I  wol  fonde 

To  bringe  oure  craft  al  in  another  plyte,  1288C 

And  but  I  do,  sires,  let  me   have  the  wyte ; 

Ther  was  defaute  in  som  what,  wel  I  woot.' 

Another  sayde,  the  fuyr  was  over  hoot. 

But  be  it  hoot  or  cold,  I  dar  say  this, 

That  we  concluden  evermor  amys  ; 

We  faile  of  that  which  that  we  wolden  have, 

And  in  oure  madness  evermore  we  rave, 

And  whan  we  ben  togideres  everichon, 

Everiche  man  semeth  a  Salamon. 

But  al  thing  which  that  schiiieth  as  the  gold,        1S8W 

Is  nought  gold,  as  that  I  have  herd  told  ; 

Ne  every  appel  that  is  fair  at  ye, 

Ne  is  not  good,  what  so  men  clappe  or  crye. 

Right  so,  lo,  fareth  it  anionges  us. 

He  that  semeth  the  wisest,  by  Jesus  ! 

Js  most  fool,  whan  it  cometh  to  the  preef  ; 

Arid  he  that  semeth  trewest  is  a  theef. 

That  schtil  ye  knowe,  er  that  I  fro  yow  wende, 

By  that  I  of  my  tale  have  maad  an  ende. 

Ther  is  a  chanoun  of  religioun  12906 

Araonges  us,  wold  iiifecte  al  a  toun, 
Though  it  as  gret  were  as  Ninive, 
Rome,  Alisaundre,  Trove,  or  other  thre. 
His  sleight  and  his  infinite  falsnesse 
Ther  couthe  no  man  writen  as  I  gesse, 
Though  that  he  mighte  lyven  a  thousand  yeer  ; 
Of  al  this  world  of  falsheed  nys  his  peer, 
For  in  his  termes  he  wol  him  so  wynde, 

12890.  CM  tlmaolil.    Thie  proverb  is  taken  directly  from  the  J'ltraboi*  sat 
A.1&UU*  de  Inaulis,  who  expresses  it  thus  in  two  Leouinee,— 

Non  teneas  auruin  totum  quod  spleudet  ut  aurura, 
Nee  pulchrum  pomuiii  quodlibet  esee  bouum. 


352  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ancl  speke  his  wordes  in  so  sleygh  a  kynde, 
Whan  he  comune  schal  with  eny  wight,  12910 

That  he  wil  make  him  dote  ariopn  right, 
But  it  a  feend  be,  as  him  selven  is. 
Ful  many  a  man  hath  he  bygiled  er  this. 
And  wol,  if  that  he  lyve  may  a  while  ; 
And  yet  men  ryde  and  goon  ful  many  a  myle 
Him  for  to  seeke,  and  have  his  acqueiutaunce, 
Nought  knowyrig  of  his  false  governaurice. 
And  if  yow  list  to  geve  me  audience, 
I  wol  it  telle  here  in  youro  presence 
But,  worschipful  chanouns  religious,  12930 

Ise  demeth  not  that  I  sclaundre  youre  hous, 
Although  my  tale  of  a  ehaiioun  be. 
Of  every  ordre  som  schrewe  is,  pardee  ; 
And  God  forbede  that  al  a  companye 
Schulde  rewe  a  singuler  maiiiies  folye. 
To  sclaunder  yow  is  no  thing  myn  entent, 
But  to  correcten  that  is  inys  i-ment. 
This  tale  was  not  oonly  told  for  yow, 
But  eek  for  other  moo  ;  ye  woot  wel  how 
.  That  among  Cristes  apostles  twelve  12930 

Ther  was  no  tray  tour  but  Judas  him  selve  ; 
Than  why  schulde  the  remenaunt  have  a  blame, 
That  gulteles  were?  by  yow  I  say  the  same. 
Save  oonly  this,  if  ye  wol  herkeue  me, 
If  any  Judas  in  your  covent  be, 
Remewe  him  by  tyme,  I  yow  rede, 
If  schame  or  los  may  causen  eny  drede. 
And  beth  no  thing  displesed,  I  you  pray, 
But  in  this  caas  herkerieth  what  I  say." 

THE  CHAXOUXES  YEMANNES  TALE 

IN  London  was  a  prest,  an  annueler,  12940 

That  therin  dwelled  hadde  many  a  yer, 

The  C^wiounes  Yemannes  Tale.  In  a  preceding  tale,  Chaucer  has  touched 
ijcn  the  astrologers  and  practisers  of  "  magike  nattirel ;  "  this,  and  perhaps 
frtne  temporary  occurrences,  led  him  now  to  satirize  bitterly  another  class 
wi.v/  infested  society  at  this  period,  the  alchemists.  The  Chanounes  Ye- 
mannes  tale  may  describe  an  occurrence  in  Chaucer's  time,  for  the  "  multi- 
pliers "  seem  to  have  been  very  busy  deceiving  people  at  the  end  of  the  four- 
teenth and  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  centuries  ;  and  Tyrwhitt  has  ]K>inted 
out  8.s  a  curious  coincidence,  that  an  act  was  passed  soon  after  the  pot-fa 
death, 5  H.  IV.  c.  iv.,  making  it  felony  "  to  multiplie  gold  or  silver,  or  to  use 
ihe  art  of  multiplication." 

12940.  on  annueler.  "  They  were  called  annucUeres,  not  from  their  re- 
ceiving a  yearly  stipend,  as  the  gloss,  explains  it,  but  from  their  being 
employed  solely  in  singing  annuals,  or  unnirrrsary  masses  f or  the  dead,  with- 
ou«  any  cure  of'ttoulu.  bee  the  stat,  'M  Kdw.  III.  c.'viii.,  where  tlie  chapelleim 


THE  CHANOUNES  YEMANNES  TALE.          8f>3 


Which  was  BO  plesaunt  and  so  servisable 
Unto  the  wyf,  wher  as  he  was  at  table, 
That  sche  wolde  sutfre  him  no  thing  for  to  pay 
For  bord  ne  clothing,  went  he  never  so  gay  ; 
And  spending  silver  had  he  right  y-nough  ; 
Therof  no  force  ;  I  wol  precede  as  now, 
And  telle  forth  my  tale  of  the  chanoun, 
Tliut  brought  this  prest  to  confusioun. 

This  false  chanoun  cam  upon  a  day  1295$ 

Unto  the  prestes  chambre,  wher  he  lay, 
Biseching  him  to  lene  him  a  certeyn 
Of  gold,  and  he  wold  quyt  it  him  ageyn. 
"  Lene  me  a  mark,"  quod  he,  "  but  da~es  thre, 
And  at  my  day  I  wil  it  quyte  the. 
And  if  so  be,  that  thou  fynde  me  fals, 
Another  day  hong  me  up  by  the  hals." 
This  prest  him  took  a  mark,  and  that  as  swithe, 
And  this  chanoun  him  thankid  ofte  sithe, 
And  took  his  leve,  and  wente  forth  his  wey  ;  12960 

And  atte  thridde  day  brought  his  money, 
And  to  the  prest  he  took  his  gold  agayn, 
Wherof  this  prest  was  wonder  glad  and  fayn. 
"  Certes,"  quod  he,  "  no  thing  annoyeth  me 
To  lene  a  man  a  noble,  or  tuo,  or  thre, 
Or  what  thing  were  in  my  possessioun, 
Whan  he  so  trewe  is  of  coridicioun, 
That  in  no  wise  he  brekewol  his  day  ; 
To  such  a  man  I  can  never  say  nay."  12969 

•'  What  ?  "  quod  this  chanoun,  "  schold  I  be  untrewo  ? 
Nay,  that  were  thing  i-fallen  of  the  newe. 
Trouthe  is  a  thing  that  I  wol  ever  kepe, 
Unto  that  day  in  which  that  I  schal  crepe 
Into  my  grave,  arid  elles  God  forbede  ! 
Bilieveth  that  as  ^iker  as  your  crede. 
God  thank  I,  and  in  good  tyme  be  it  sayd, 
That  ther  was  never  man  yet  evel  apayd 
For  gold  rie  silver  that  he  to  me  lent, 
Ne  never  fal.-hed  in  myn  hert  I  meat. 
And,  sire,"  quod  he,  "  now  of  my  priveto,  121"?'; 

Syn  ye  so  goodlich  have  be  unto  me, 
And  kythed  to  me  so  gret  gentilesce, 
Som  what,  to  quyte  with  youre  kyndenesse, 

paroehiels  are  distinguished  from  others  cfiantanz  anual^s,  et  A  cure  des  almet 
tneiit  entfitflantz.  They  were  both  to  receive  yearly  stipends,  but  the  former 
WM  allowed  to  take  six  marks,  and  tho  latter'  only  five.  Compare  stat.  2  H. 
V.,  St.  2,  c.  ii.,  where  tin:  stipend  of  thechapellein  parochicl  is  raised  to  eight 
marks,  and  that  of  the  chujiellein  annueier  ihe  is  so  named  in  the  Eiatute;  tc 
tevrn ." —  TyrwhUt. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  will  yow  schewe,  and  if  yow  lust  to   ere 

I  will  yow  tecbe  pleynly  the  rnanere, 

How  I  kan  werken  in  philosophie. 

Takith  good  heed,  ye  schul  seen  wel  at  ye, 

That  I  wol  doon  a  maystry  er  I  go." 

"  Ye  ?  "  quod  the  prest,  "  ye,  sire,  and  wol  yt  so  ? 

Mary  !  therof  I  pray  yow  hertily."  J2990 

"  At  youre  coinaundement,  sire,  trewely," 

Quod  the  chanoun,  "  and  elles  God  forbede  ! 

Lo,  how  this  theef  couthe  his  servise  beede. 

Ful  soth  it  is  that  such  profred  servise 

Stynketh,  as  witnessen  these  olde  wise  ; 

Arid  that  ful  soone  I  wyl  it  verefye 

In  this  chanoun,  roote  of  al  treccherie, 

That  evermor  delit  hath  and  gladnesse 

(Such  feendly  though tes  in  his  hert  empresse) 

How  Cristes  poeple  he  may  to  ineschief  bringe.       13000 

God  kepe  us  from  his  fals  dissiinilynge. 

What  wiste  this  prest  with  whom  that  he  delte  ? 

Ne  of  his  harm  comyng  he  no  thing  felte. 

O  seely  prest,  o  sely  innocent, 

With  coveytise  arioon  thou  schalt  be  blent  ; 

O  graceles,  ful  blynd  is  thy  conceyt, 

No  thing  art  thou  war  of  the  deceyt, 

Which  that  this  fox  i-schapen  hath  to  the  ; 

His  wily  wrenches  y-wis  thou  naaist  not  fle. 

Wherfor  to  go  to  the  conclusioun,  13010 

That  referreth  to  thy  confusioun, 

Unhappy  man,  anoon  1  will  me  hie 

To  tellen  thin  unwitte  and  thy  folye, 

And  eek  the  falsenesse  of  that  other  wrecche, 

Als  ferforth  as  my  connyng  wol  strecche. 

This  chanoun  was  my  lord,  ye  wolde  weene  ; 
Sire  ost,  in  faith,  and  by  the  heven  queene, 
It  was  another  chanoun,  and  not  he, 
That  can  an  hundred  fold  more  subtilte. 
He  hath  bitrayed  folkes  many  tyme  ;  1 3020 

Of  his  falsnes  it  dullith  me  to  ryme. 
Ever  whan  I  speke  of  his  falshede, 
For  schame  of  him  my  cheekes  wexen  reede  ; 
Algates  thay  bygynne  for  to  glowe, 
For  reednes  have  I  noon,  right  wel  I  knowe, 
In  my  visage,  for  fumes  diverse 
Of  metals,  which  ye  han  me  herd  reherse, 
Consumed  and  wasted  han  my  reeduesse. 
Now  tak  heed  of  this  chanouns  cursednesse.  13028 

"  Sire,"  quod  he  to  the  prest,  "  let  your  man  goon 


THE  CHANOUNES  YEMANNES  TALE.          355 


For  quyksilver,  that  we  it  hadde  anoon  ; 

And  let  him  bringe  ounces  tuo  or  tnre  j 

And  whan  he  cometh,  as  faste  schul  ye  see 

A  wonder  thing,  which  ye  saugh  never  er  this." 

"  Sire,"  quod  the  prest,  "  it  schal  be  doon,  i-wis." 

He  bad  his  servaunt  fecche  him  his  thinges, 

And  he  al  redy  was  at  his  biddyriges, 

And  went  him  forth,  and  com  anoon  agayn 

With  this  quyksilver,  schortly  for  to  sayn, 

And  took  these  ounces  thre  to  the  chanoun ;          13040 

And  he  it  layde  faire  and  wel  adoun, 

And  bad  the  servaunt  coles  for  to  bringe, 

That  he  anoon  might  go  to  his  werkynge. 

The  coles  right  anoon  weren  i-fett, 

And  this  chanoun  took  out  a  croselett 

Of  his  bosom,  and  schewed  it  the  prest. 

"  This  instrument,"  quod  he,  "  which  that  them  eest, 

Tak  in  thin  hond,  and  put  thiself  therinne 

Of  this  quiksilver  an  unce,  and  her  bygynne 

In  the  name  of  Crist  to  wax  a  philosophre.  13050 

Ther  ben  ful  fewe,  whiche  that  I  wolde  profre 

To  scheWe  hem  thus  moche  of  my  science  ; 

For  ye  schul  seen  heer  by  experience, 

That  this  quiksilver  I  wol  mortifye, 

Right  in  youre  sight  anoon,  withouten  lye, 

And  make  it  as  good  silver  and  as  fyn 

As  ther  is  any  in  youre  purs  or  myn, 

Or  elles  wher  ;  and  make  it  malleable  ; 

And  elles  holdeth  me  fals  and  unable 

Amonges  folk  for  ever  to  appeere.  13060 

I  have  a  ponder  heer  that  cost  me  deere, 

Schal  make  al  good,  for  it  is  cause  of  al 

My  connyng,  which  that  I  you  schewe  schal. 

Vovdith  youre  man,  and  let  him  be  theroute  ; 

Ano  schet  the  dore,  whils  we  ben  aboute 

Our  privetee,  that  no  man  us  aspie, 

Whiles  we  werken  in  this  philosophie." 

Al,  as  he  bad,  fulfilled  was  in  dede. 

This  ilke  servaunt  anoon  right  out  yede, 

And  his  niaister  schitte  the  dore  anoon,  18070 

And  to  here  labour  speedily  thai  goon. 

This  prest.  at  this  cursed  chanouns  biddyng, 
Upon  the  fuyr  anoon  sette  this  thing, 
And  blew  the  fuyr,  and  busied  him  ful  fast, 
And  this  chanoun  into  the  croslet  cast 

13062.  good.     I  have  ventured  to  retain  TyrwhiU's  reading,  which  U  viip- 
poned  by  the  Lanudowue  Ma.     The  Karl.  Ms.  readd  gold. 


866  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


A  poucler,  noot  I  wherof  that  it  was 

I-maad,  outher  of  chalk,  outlier  of  glas, 

Or  som  wnat  elles,  was  nought  worth  a  flye, 

To  blynde  with  this  prest  ;  and  bad  him  hye 

These  coles  for  to  coucheu  al  above  13080 

The  croislet ;  for  "  iii  tokenyng  I  the  love," 

Quod  this  chanoun,  "  thin  oughne  handes  tuo 

Schal  wirche  al  thing  which  that  schal  be  do." 

"  Graunt  mercy,"  quod  the  prest,  and  was  ful  glad, 

And  couchede  coles  as  the  chanoun  bad, 

And  whil  he  besy  was,  this  feendly  wrecche, 

This  false  chanoun  (the  foule  feend  him  fecche  !) 

Out  of  his  bosom  took  a  bechen  cole, 
In  which  ful  subtilly  was  maad  an  hole, 

And  therein  put  was  of  silver  lymayle  1309C 

An  unce,  and  stopped  was  withoute  fayle 

The  hole  with  wex,  to  kepe  the  lyinail  in. 

And  understondith,  that  this  false  gyn 

Was  not  maad  ther,  but  it  was  maad  bifore  j 

And  other  thinges  I  schal  telle  more 

Herafter-ward,  which  that  he  with  him  brought. 

Er  he  com  there,  to  bigyle  him  he  thought, 

And  so  he  dede,  er  thay  wente  atwynne  ; 

Til  he  had  torned  him,  couthe  he  nought  blyikuc. 

It  dulleth  me,  whan  that  I  of  him  speke  ;  181  Oi 

On  his  falshede  fayn  wold  I  me  wreke, 

If  I  wist  how,  but  he  is  heer  and  there, 

He  is  so  variant,  he  byt  no  where. 
But  taketh  heed  now,  sires,  for  Goddes  love. 

He  took  his  cole  of  which  I  spak  above, 

And  in  his  hond  he  bar  it  prively, 

And  whiles  the  preste  couched  bysily 

The  coles,  as  I  tolde  yow  er  this, 

This  chanoun  sayde,  "  Freeud,  ye  doon  amye  ; 

This  is  not  couched  as  it  oughte  be,  1*110 

But  soone  I  schal  amenden  it,"  quod  he. 

"  Now  let  me  melle  therwith  but  a  while, 

For  of  yow  have  I  pitee,  by  seint  Gile  ! 

Ye  been  right  .hoot,  I  se  wel  how  ye  swete  ; 

Have  heer  a  cloth  and  wype  away  the  wete." 

And  whiles  that  this  prest  him  wyped  haas, 

This  chanoun  took  his  cole,  I  schrewe  his  faas  I 

And  layd  it  aboven  on  the  myd-ward 

Of  the  croslet,  and  blew  wel  afterward, 

Til  that  the  coles  gonne  faste  brenne. 

"  Now  geve  us  drinke,"  quod  the  chanoun  thenn* 

"  Als  Bwithe  ul  schal  be  wel,  I  undertake. 


THE  CTIANOUNES  YEMANNES  TALE.          357 

Sitto  we  doun,  and  let  ns  mery  make." 

And  whan  that  the  chanouna  V)echene  cole 

Was  brent,  al  the  lyrnail  out  of  the  hole 

Into  the  crosselet  anoon  fei  adoun  ; 

And  so  it  moste  needes  by  resoun, 

Sins  it  so  even  above  couched  was  ; 

But  therof  wist  the  prest  no  thing,  alias  ! 

lie  denied  alle  the  colis  i-liche  goode,     •  13180 

For  of  the  sleight  he  no  thing  understood. 

And  whan  this  alcamister  saugh  his  tyme, 
"  Rys  up,  sire  prest,"  quod  he,  "  and  stonde  by  me  ; 
And  for  I  wot  wel  ingot  have  ye  noon, 
Gtoth,  walkith  forth,  and  brynge  a  chalk-stoon  , 
For  I  wol  make  it  of  the  same  schap, 
That  is  an  ingold,  if  I  may  have  hap. 
And  brynge  with  you  a  bolle  or  a  panne 
Ful  of  water,  and  ye  schul  wel  se  thanne 
How  that  oure  besynes  schal  happe  and  preve        13140 
And  yit,  for  ye  schul  have  no  mysbileeve 
Ne  wrong  conceyt  of  me  in  youre  absence, 
I  ne  wol  nought  ben  out  of  youre  presence, 
But  go  with  you,  and  come  with  you  agayn." 
The  chambur  dore,  schortly  for  to  sayn, 
Thay  opened  and  schette,  and  went  here  weye 
And  forth  with  hen  they  caryed  the  keye, 
And  comen  agayn  withouten  eny  delay. 
What  schuld  I  tary  al  the  longe  day  ? 
He  took  the  chalk,  and  schop  it  in  the  wise  13150 

Of  an  ingot,  as  I  schal  yow  devyse  ; 
I  say,  he  took  out  of  his  oughne  sleeve 
A  teyne  of  silver  (evel  mot  he  cheeve  I) 
Which  that  was  but  an  unce  of  wight, 
And  taketh  heed  now  of  his  cursed  slight ; 
He  schop  his  ingot  in  lengthe  and  in  brede 
Of  this  teyne,  withouten  eny  drede, 
So  sleighly,  that  the  prest  it  nought  aspyde  ; 
And  in  his  sleeve  agayn  he  gan  it  hyde  ; 
And  fro  the  fuyr  he  took  up  his  mateere,  1316C 

And  into  the  ingot  put  it  with  mery  cheere  ; 
And  into  the  watir-vessel  he  it  cast, 

13124.  This  line,  as  it  stands  in  the  Harl.  Ms., 

And  whan  the  chanouns  bechene  cole, 

appears  to  be  imperfect,  although  it  is  supported  by  the  Lansdowne  Mi.  I 
have  ventured  to  add  the  word  that  from  Tyrwhitt,  and  to  insert  the  «  in 
chaiirtuiifs,  which  had  probably  slipped  out  by" the  inadvertence  of  a  Bcrita. 

13146.  wente  liereweye.  The  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  read  wente  forth  hen 
i/vt/e,  which  makes  a  redundancy  in  the  measure  ;  the  superfluous  word  »p- 
p*ar»  V)  Uave  been  brought  iu  here  from  the  beginning  of  the  next  line. 


868  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Whan  that  him  list,  and  bad  this  prest  as  fast, 
"  Loke  what  ther  is ;  put  in  thin  hond  and  grope  ; 
Thou  fynde  ther  schalt  silver,,  as  I  hope." 
What  devel  of  helle  schold  it  elles  be  ? 
Schavyng  of  silver,  silver  is,  parde  ! 

He  putte  in  his  hond  and  tok  up  a  teyne 
Of  silver  fyn,  and  glad  in  every  veyne 
Was  this  p»est,  whan  he  saugh  it  was  so.  1317C 

"  Goddes  blessyng,  and  his  modres  also, 
And  alle  halwes,  have  ye,  sire  chanoun  ! ': 
Seyde  this  prest.  and  I  her  malisoun  ; 
"  But,  and  ye  vouchesauf  to  teche  me 
This  nobil  craft  and  this  subtilite, 
I  will  be  youre  in  al  that  ever  I  may." 
Quod  this  chanoun,  "  Yet  wol  I  make  assay 
The  secound  tyme,  that  ye  mow  taken  heede, 
And  ben  expert  of  this,  and  in  your  neede 
Another  day  assay  in  myn  absence  13180 

This  dicipline,  and  this  crafty  science. 
Let  take  another  unce,"  quod  he  tho, 
"  Of  quyksilver,  withouten  wordes  mo, 
And  do  therwith  as  ye  have  doon  er  this 
With  that  other,  which  that  noAv  silver  .;s." 
The  prest  him  busyeth  in  al  that  he  can 
To  doon  as  this  chanoun,  this  cursed  man, 
Comaunded  him,  and  faste  blew  the  fuyr, 
For  to  come  to  theffect  of  his  desyr. 
And  this  chanoun  right  in  the  mene  while  13190 

Al  redy  was  this  prest  eft  to  bygile, 
And  for  a  countenaunce  in  his  hond  bar 
An  holow  stikke  (tak  keep  and  be  war), 
In  thende  of  which  an  unce  and  no  more 
Of  silver  lymail  put  was,  as  bifore 
Was  in  his  cole,  and  stopped  with  wex  wel 
For  to  kepe  in  his  limail  every  del. 
And  whil  the  prest  was  in  his  besynesse, 
This  chanoun  with  his  stikke  gan  him  dresse 
To  him  anoon,  and  his  pouder  cast  in,  3201 

As  he  dede  er,  (the  devel  out  of  his  skyn 
Him  torne,  I  pray  to  God,  for  his  falshede  ! 
For  he  was  ever  fals  in  worde  and  deede). 
And  with  this  stikke  above  the  croslet, 

131SO.  assay  The  Harl.  Ms.  substitutes  your  self,  which  make*  an  unint«V- 
I'gible  sentence,  without  a  verb.  The  Lanid.  Ms.  omits  the  word,  and  make* 
the  line  imperfect  in  measure  as  well  as  grammatical  construction. 

1320.'!.  worde.  This,  which  is  the  reading  of  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  is  perhaps 
better  than  that  of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  oth.  Tyrwhitt  has  thought. 

13204.  above.  So  Tyrwhitt  and  the  Laiisd.  Ms.,  apparently  the  correct  read- 
Ing.  The  tlarL  Ms.  reads  alone. 


THE  CHANOTNVS  YEMANNES  TALE.          359 

That  was  ordeyned  w'th  that  false  get, 

He  styred  the  coles,  til  relente  gan 

The  wex  agayn  the  fuyr,  as  every  man, 

But  it  a  fool  be,  woot  wel  it  moot  nede 

And  al  that  in  the  hole  was  out  yede, 

And  into  the  croslet  hastily  it  fel.  13210 

Now,  good  sires,  what  wol  ye  bet  than  wel  ? 

When  that  this  prest  thus  was  begiled  agayn, 

Supposyng  not  but  trouthe,  soth  to  sayn, 

He  was  so  glad,  that  I  can  nought  expresse 

In  no  maner  his  myrthe  and  his  gladnesse, 

And  to  the  chanoun  he  profred  eft  soone 

Body  and  good.  "Ye,"  quod  the  chanoun,  "soone, 

Though  pore  I  be,  crafty  thou  schalt  me  fynde  ; 

I  warne  the,  yet  is  ther  more  byhynde. 

Is  ther  Any  coper  her  withinne  ?  "  quod  he.  13220 

"  Ye,  sir,"  quod  this  prest,  "  I  trowe  ther  be. 

Elles  go  bye  sorn,  and  that  as  swithe." 

"  Now  good  sire,  go  forth  thy  way  and  hy  the." 

He  went  his  way,  and  with  this   coper  cam  ; 

And  this  chanoun  it  in  his  hondes  nam, 

And  of  that  coper  weyed  out  but  an  ounce. 

A.1  to  simple  is  my  tonge  to  pronounce, 

As  minister  of  my  witt,  the  doublenesse 

Of  this  chanoun,  roote  of  al  cursednesse.  13229 

He  semed  frendly  to  hem  that  knew  him  nought. 

But  he  was  fendly  bothe  in  werk  and  thought. 

It  werieth  me  to  telle  of  his  falsnesse ; 

And  natheles  yit  wol  I  it  expresse, 

To  that  en  tent  men  may  be  war  therby, 

And  for  noon  other  cause  trewely. 

He  put  this  unce  of  coper  in  the  croslet, 
And  on  the  fuyr  als  swithe  he  hath  it  set, 
And  cast  in  pouder,  and  made  the  prest  to  blowe, 
And  in  his  worching  for  to  stoupe  lowe, 
As  he  dede  er,  and  al  nas  but  a  jape  ;  13240 

Right  as  him  list  the  prest  he  made  his  ape. 
And  afterward  in  the  ingot  he  it  cast, 
And  in  the  panne  putte  it  atte  last 
Of  water,  and  in  he  put  his  owne  hond. 
And  in  his  sleeve,  as  ye  bvforn-hond 
Herde  me  telle,  he  had  a  silver  teyne  ; 
He  sleyghly  took  it  out,  this  cursed  heyne, 
(Unwitynge  this  prest  of  his  false  craft), 

132V8.  as  minister  of  my  wilt.  I  retain  this  reading  from  Tyrwhitt,  *e  ftp- 
puently  furnishing  the  best  meaning.  Ms.  Harl.  reads  the  minister  anil  qf 
»!»•  witt ;  the  reading  of  the  Lansd.  Ms.  is,  his  inonatre  and  his  witte. 


860  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  in  the  pannes  botine  he  hath  it  laft ; 

And  in  the  water  rumbleth  to  and  fro. 

And  wonder  prively  took  up  also 

The  coper  teyne,  (nought  knowyng  this  prest) 

And  hidde  it,  and  hent  him  by  the  brest, 

And  to  him  spak,  and  thus  sayde  in  his  game  ; 

"  Stoupeth  adoun  !  by  God,  ye  ben  to  blame  ; 

Helpeth  me  now,  as  I  dede  yow  whil  er  ; 

Put  in  your  hond,  and  loke  what  is  ther." 

This  prest  took  up  this  silver  teyne  anoon. 

And  thanne  sayde  the  chanoun,  let  us  goon  13253 

With  these  thre  teynes  whiche  that  we  han  wrought, 

To  som  goldsmyth,  and  wite  if  it  be  ought. 

For  by  my  faith  I  nolde,  for  myn  hood, 

But  if  they  were  silver  fyn  and  good, 

And  that  as  swithe  proved  schal  it  be." 

Unto  the  goldsmith  with  these  teynes  thre 

Thay  went,  and  putte  these  teynes  in  assay 

To  f uyr  and  hammer ;  might  no  man  say  nay, 

But  that  thay  were  as  hem  oughte  be. 

This  sotted  prest,  who  was  gladder  than  he  ? 
Was  never  brid  gladder  agayn  the  day  ;  13270 

Ne  nightyngale  in  the  sesoun  of  May 
Was  never  noon,  that  liste  better  to  synge  ; 
Ne  lady  lustier  in  carolynge  ; 
Or  for  to  speke  of  love  and  wommanhede, 
Ne  knyght  in  armes  dooii  an  hardy  deede 
To  stonde  in  grace  of  his  lady  deere, 
Than  hadde  this  prest  this  craft  for  to  lere ; 
And  to  the  chanoun  thus  he  spak  and  seyde  ; 
"  For  the  love  of  God,  that  for  us  alle  deyde, 
And  as  I  may  deserve  it  unto  yow,  132JJ3 

What  schal  this  receyt  coste  ?  telleth  now." 
"  By  oure  lady,"  quod  the  chanoun,  "  it  is  deere, 
I  warne  yow  wel,  for,  save  I  and  a  freere, 
In  Engelond  ther  can  no  man  it  make." 
"  No  fors,"  quoth  he  ;  "  now,  sire,  for  Goddos  sake, 
What  schal  I  paye  ?  telleth  me,  I  pray.'' 
"  I  wis,"  quod  he,  "it  is  ful  dere  I  say. 
Sire,  at  a  word,  if  that  ye  lust  it  have, 
Ye  schul  pay  fourty  pound,  so  God  me  save  ; 
And  nere  the  frendschipe  that  ye  dede  er  this         13290 
To  me,  ye  schulde  paye  more  i-wys." 
This  prest  the  sornme  of  fourty  pound  anoon 
Of  nobles  fette,  and  tooke  hem  everychoon 

13283.  for  savf.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  for,  sire,  which  is  evidently  an  error  t 
the  l.ans'l.  MB.  has  but,  save,  aiid  Tyrwhitt.  that  save. 


THE  CffANOUNES  YEMANNES  TALE.  361 

To  this  chanoun,  for  this  ilk  receyt. 

Al  his  werkyng  nas  but  fraude  and  decej't. 

"  Sire  prest,"  he  seyde,  "  I  kepe  have  no  loos 
Of  my  craft,  for  I  wold  it  kept  were  cloos  ; 
And  as  ye  loveth  me,  kepeth  it  secre. 
For  and  men  knewe  al  my  sotilte, 

By  God,  men  wolden  have  so  grct  envye  13300 

To  me,  bycause  of  my  philosophic, 
I  schulde  be  deed,  ther  were  noon  other  weye." 
<;  God  it  forbede,"  quoth  the  prest,  "  what  seye. 
Yflt  had  I  lever  spenden  al  the  good 
Which  that  I  have,  (and  elles  wax  I  wood) 
Than  that  ye  schulde  falle  in  suche  rneschief." 
"  For  your  good  wil,  sir,  have  ye  right  good  preef," 
Qaoth  the  chanoun,  "  and  far  wel,  graunt  mercy." 
He  went-his  way,  and  never  the  prest  him  sey 
After  this  day  ;  and  whan  that  this  prest  scholde 
Maken  assay,  at  such  tyme  as  he  wolde,  13311 

Of  this  receyt,  far  wel,  it  wold  not  be. 
Lo,  thus  byjaped  and  bygilt  was  he  ; 
Thus  maketh  he  his  introducciouii 
To  bringe  folk  to  here  destruccioun. 

Considereth,  sires,  how  that  in  ech  astaat 
Bitwise  men  and  gold  ther  is  debaat, 
So  ferforth  that  uimethe  ther  is  noon. 
This  multiplying  blent  so  many  oon, 
That  in  good  faith  I  trowe  that  it  be  13320 

The  cause  grettest  of  which  scarsete. 
Philosophres  speken  so  mistyly 
In  this  craft,  that  men  <5onne  not  come  therby, 
For  any  witt  that  men  han  now  on  dayes. 
They  may  wel  chiteren,  as  doon  these  jayes, 
Arid  iri  here  termes  sette  lust  and  peyne, 
But  to  her  purpos  schul  thay  never  atteyne. 
A  man  may  lightly  lerne,  if  he  have  ought, 
To  multiplie  arid  bringe  his  good  to  nought. 
Lo,  such  a  lucre  is  in  this  lusty  game  ;  13830 

A  mannes  mirthe  it  wol  torne  into  grauie, 
Arid  empte  also  grete  and  hevy  purses, 
And  make  folk  for  to  purchace  curses 
Of  hem,  that  han  her  good  therto  i-lent. 
O,  fy  I  for  schame,  thay  that  have  be  brent, 
Alias  !  can  thay  not  He  the  fuyres  hete  ? 
Ye  that  it  usen,  I  rede  ye  it  lete, 
Lest  ye  lesen  al  ;  for  bet  than  never  is  late  , 
Never  to  thrive,  were  to  long  a  date. 
Though  ye  prolle  ay,  ye  sohul  it  never  fynde  ;         13840 


862  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ye  ben  as  bolde  as  is  Bayard  the  blynde, 

That  blundreth  forth,  and  peril  casteth  noon  ; 

He  is  as  bold  to  renne  agayn  a  stoon, 

As  for  to  go  bysides  in  the  wey  ; 

80  fare  ye  that  multiplie,  I  sey. 

If  that  youre  yghen  can  nought  seen  aright, 

Loke  that  youre  inyride  lakke  nought  his  sight. 

FD:  though  ye  loke  never  so  brode  and  stare, 

Ye  schul  nought  wynrie  a  inite  on  that  chaffare, 

But  wasten  al,  that  thay  may  rape  and  renne.       1335U 

Withdrawe  the  fuyr,  lest  it  to  faste  brenne ; 

Medleth  no  more  with  that  art,  I  niene  ; 

For  gif  ye  doon,  youre  thrift  is  goon  ful  dene. 

And  right  as  swithe  I  wol  yow  telle  heere 

What  philosophres  sein  in  this  mateere. 

Lo,  thus  saith  Arnold  of  the  Newe-toun, 
As  his  Rosarie  maketh  mencioun, 
He  saith  right  thus,  withouten  eny  lye  : 
Ther  may  no  man  Mercury  mortifye, 
But  it  be  with  his  brother  knowleching.  133CO 

Lo,  how  that  he,  which  that  first  sayd  this  thing, 
Of  philosophres  fader  was,  Hermes  j 
He  saith,  how  that  the  dragouii  douteles 
He  dyeth  nought,  but  if  that  he  be  slayn 
With  his  brother.     And  that  is  for  to  sayn, 
By  the  dragoun,  Mercury,  and  noon  other 
He  understood,  and  brimstoon  be  his  brother, 
That  out  of  Sol  and  Luna  were  i-drawe. 
"  And  therfore,"  sayde  he,  •'  take  heed  to  my  sawe  ; 
Let  no  man  besy  him  this  art  to  seche,  18370 

But  if  that  he  thentencioun  and  speche 

13341.  Bayard  the  blynde.  This  appears  to  have  been  a  very  popular  old 
proverb.  A  number  of  references  illustrative  of  it  will  be  found  in  Mr.  Hal- 
liwell's  Dictionary  of  Archaic  and  provincial  Wordi  ;  the  following  passage 
it  )m  Gower's  Confess.  Amantis  is  nearly  parallel  to  Chaucer  :— 

Ther  is  no  God,  ther  is  no  lawe 
Of  whom  that  he  taketh  eny  hede, 
But  as  Bayarde  the  blynde  stede, 
Tille  he  falle  in  the  diche  amidde, 
He  goth  ther  no  man  wol  him  bidde. 

13350.  thtiy.     The  Lansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt-  read  ye. 

1335C.  ArncUl.  Arnald  de  Villeneuve  (in  Lat.  de  Villa  Nova,  or  Villa- 
uovanuB),  a  distinguished  French  physician  and  alchemist  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  whose  Kosarius  1' tMu sop horuin  was  a  textbook  for  the  alchemist* 
of  the  following  age. 

133U1.  L'>.  This  word,  which  seems  necessary  to  the  sense,  is  not  found 
nither  in  Ms.  llarl.  or  in  Ms.  Lansd. 

\'XX!i.  Jlenrti't.  The  treatise  of  the  philosopher'*  stone,  ascribed  to  Hcnnefl 
Trifiinegistus,  wtis  popular  in.  the  middle  ages  ;  ita  author  being  supposed  Vo 
V»vo  be«u  ihe  founder  of  the  Hermetic  philosophy. 


THE  CHANOUNES  YEMANNES  I  ALE.  363 


Of  philosophres  understonde  can  ; 
And  if  he  do,  he  is  a  lewed  man. 
For  this  sciens.  and  this  connyng,"  quod  ho, 
"  Is  of  the  Secre  of  secretz,  parde." 
Also  ther  was  a  disciple  of  Plato, 
That  on  a  tyme  sayde  his  maister  to, 
As  his  book  Senior  wil  bere  witnesse, 
And  this  was  his  deniaunde  in  sothfastnesse  : 
"  Tel  me  the  name  of  thilke  prive  stoon."  1339C 

And  Plato  answered  unto  him  arioon, 
"  Take  the  stoon  that  titanos  men  name." 
"  Which  is  that  ?  "  quod  he.    "  Magnasia  is  the  same 
Sayde  Plato.     "  Ye,  sire,  and  is  it  thus  ? 
This  is  ignotum  per  Ignatius, 
What  is  magnasia,  good  sir,  I  you  pray  ?  " 
"  It  is  a  water  that  is  maad,  I  say, 
Of  elementes  foure,"  quod  Plato. 
"  Telle  me  the  rote,  good  sire,"  quod  he  tho, 
"  Of  that  water,  if  it  be  your  wille."  13390 

"  Nay,  nay,"  quod  Plato,  "  certeyn  that  I  nylle 
The  philosophres  sworn  were  everichoon, 
That  thay  ne  scholde  discovere  it  unto  noon 
Ne  in  no  book  it  write  in  no  manere  ; 
For  unto  Crist  it  is  so  leef  and  deere. 
That  he  wil  not  that  it  discovered  be, 
But  wher  it  liketh  to  his  deite. 
Man  to  enspire,  and  eek  for  to  defende 
Whom  that  him  liketh  ;  lo,  this  is  the  ende." 

Than  thus  conclude  I,  syn  that  God  of  hevene 
Ne  wol  not  that  the  philosophres  nevene,  13401 

How  that  a  man  schal  come  unto  this  stoon, 

13375.  the  Secre  of  secretz.  "  He  alludes  to  a  treatise  entitled  Secreta  Secr»- 
:orwn,  which  was  supposed  to  contain  the  sum  of  Aristotle's  instructions  to 
Alexander.  See  Fabric.  Bibl.  Gr.  v.  ii.  p.  167.  It  was  very  popular  in  the 
middle  ages.  ^Egidius  de  Columna,  a  famous  divine  and  bishop,  about  tl  e 
latter  end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  built  upon  it  his  book  hr.  refiiminc  pri  i- 
eipum,  of  which  our  Occleve  made  a  free  translation  in  English  verso,  ai  d 
addressed  it  to  Henry  V.  while  Prince  of  Wales.  A  part  of  Lydgate's  trans- 
lation of  the  Secrt'ta  Secretomm  is  printed  in  Ashmole's  Theat.  L'hem.  llrrt, 
p.  397.  He  did  not  translate  more  than  about  half  of  it,  being  prevented  t  J 
death.  See  Ms.  Harl.  2251,  and  Tanner,  Jiib.  lirit.  in  v.  LYDGATE.  T!  « 
greatest  part  of  the  seventh  book  of  Gower's  Cow/.  Am  ant,  is  taken  frotr  th  I 
supposed  work  of  Aristotle." — Tynchitt. 

13378.  his  book  Senior.  The  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  read  Soiner.  Tyrwhitt 
observes  ou  this  pass;ige,  "  The  book  alluded  to  is  printed  in  the  The/itrum 
Chemicum,  vol.  v.  p.  219,  under  this  title:  'Seniohs  Xadith  til.  Hamnelii 
tabula  chymica.'  The  story  which  follows  of  1'lato  and  his  disciple.  i>  there 
told  (\i.  249)  with  some  variations,  of  Salomon.  '  Dixit  Salomon  rex,  Kecipe 
lapidem  qul  dicitur  Tliitarios.—  L)ixlt  sapiens,  Assigna  mihi  ilium.  l>ixit, 
*«t  corpus  menjnexift — Dixit,  Quid  egt  magnesia  '  Uespondit,  Maynesi<i  e»t 
•Vita,  composite,  &u.'  " 

13369.  rote.    The  Harl.  Me.  reads  reocke. 


861  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  rede  as  for  the  beste,  let  it  goon. 
For  who  so  maketh  God  his  advensarie, 
As  for  to  werke  eny  thing  in  contrarie 
Unto  his  wil,  certes  never  schal  he  thrive, 
Though  that  he  ruultiplie  teruie  of  al  his  lyve. 
And  ther  a  poynt ;  for  ended  is  my  tale. 
God  send  every  trewe  man  boote  of  his  bale  ! 

THE   DOCTOURES  PROLOGE. 

t"  YE,  let  that  passen,"  quod  oure  hoste,  "  as  cow. 
Sire  Uoctour  of  Physike,  I  praye  you, 
Tel  us  a  tale  of  soni  honest  matere."  13412 

"  It  schal  be  don,  if  that  ye  wol  it  here," 
Said  this  doctour,  and  his  tale  began  anon. 
"  Now,  good  men,"  quod  he,  "  herkenetheverichon."] 

THE   TALE   OF  THE  DOCTOR  OP  PHISIK. 

THER  was,  as  telleth  Titus  Lyviua, 
A  knight,  that  cleped  was  Virginius, 
Fulfild  of  honours  and  of  worthines, 
And  strong  of  frendes,  and  of  gret  riches. 

The  Doctour?*  Prolofje.  Ms.  Harl.,  with  others  of  the  best  MSB.,  has  no 
^rvlogne  to  the  tale  of  the  Doctor  of  Physick.  In  two  MSS.  quoted  by  Tyr- 
« bitt  there  is  a  mere  colophon  to  the  effect,  Here  endtth  the  Frankeleyns 
Tale,  and  biciinneth  the  Phisiciens  Tale  without  a  prologe.  Other  MSS.  have 
different  prologues  ;  tlmt  printed  above  is  given  by  Tyrwhitt  from  one  MS., 
but  it  is  not  much  in  Chaucer's  style  ;  the  following,  which  is  given  ia  the 
Lanad.  Ms.,  is  still  less  so  :— 

"  Now  trewly,"  quod  oure  oste,  "  this  a  prati  tale  ; 
For  litel  merveile  .t  is  that  thou  lokest  so  pale, 
Sethen  thou  hast  medeled  with  so  mony  thinges  ; 
With  bloweinge  att  the  cole  to  melte  bothe  brochez  and  ringe», 
Ar>d  other  many  jewel*  dar  I  undertake. 
Ard  that  thi  lofde  couthe  us  tel  if  we  might  him  overtake. 
Bcilrtt  him  go  a  devel  wave,  the  compaigny  is  never  the  war*  ; 
And  al  such  false  harlotes  I  sette  not  be  hem  a  kers  ; 
Bot  latt  pas  overe  nowe  al  thes  subtilitees, 
And  sume  worthi  man  tel  ue  summe  veritees, 
As  ye.  worschipful  maister  of  phisike, 
Tellith  us  somme  tale  that  is  a  cronyke, 
That  we  may  of  yowe  leren  sum  witte." 
Quod  the  maister  of  phisik.  '•  A  tale  that  I  finde  writte 
In  cronyke  passed  of  olde  tyme, 
Herkeneth,  for  I  wil  tel  it  yow  in  rime." 

The  Ta'-e  of  the  .Ooctor  of  Phisik.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  thlB 
tale  is  the  common  story  of  Virginias  and  his  daughter,  related,  as  here 
stated,  by  I>ivy,  but  a  little  modified  in  its  details  to  suit  medieval  notions. 
Chaucer  seems  to  have  followed  chiefly  the  version  of  the  story  given  in  his 
favorite  b  /*>k  the  lioman  tie  la  /lose  (vol.  ii.  p.  74  et  seqq-  ed.  Meon.),  and 
perhaps  he  had  ulso  in  his  eye  Gower,  who  gives  the  story  of  Vireiuius  in  th? 
•eveuth  book  ot  his  Cori/cisio  Amantis. 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  DOCTOR  OF  PHISIK.        366 


This  knight  a  doughter  hadde  by  his  wyf,  13490 

And  never  ne  hadde  mo  in  al  his  lyf. 

Fair  was  this  mayde  in  excellent  beaute 

Above  every  wight  that  men  may  se  ; 

For  nature  hath  with  sovereyn  diligence 

I-formed  hir  in  so  gret  excellence, 

As  though  sche  wolde  say,  "Lo,  I  nature, 

Thus  can  I  forme  and  peynte  a  creature, 

Whan  that  me  lust ;  who  can  me  counterfete  ? 

Pigmalion  ?  nought,  though  he  alwey  forge  and  bete, 

Or  grave,  or  peynte  ;  for  I  dar  wel  sayn,  13480 

Apelles,  Zeuxis,  schulde  wirche  in  vayn. 

Other  to  grave,  or  paynte,  or  forge  or  bete, 

If  thay  presumed  me  to  counterfete. 

For  he  that  is  the  former  principal, 

Hath.maad  me  his  viker  general 

To  forme  and  peynte  erthely  creature 

Right  as  me  lust,  al  thing  is  in  my  cure 

Under  the  moone  that  may  wane  and  waxe. 

And  for  my  werke  no  thing  wol  I  axe  ; 

My  lord  and  I  ben  fully  at  accord.  18440 

I  made  hir  to  the  worschip  of  my  lord  ; 

So  do  I  alle  myn  other  creatures, 

What  colour  that  thay  been,  or  what  figures." 

Thus  seiiieth  me  that  nature  wolde  say. 

This  mayde  was  of  age  twelf  yer  and  tway, 
In  which  that  nature  hath  suche  delite, 
For  right  as  sche  can  peynte  a  lili  white 
And  rody  a  rose,  right  with  such  peynture 
Sche  peynted  hath  this  noble  creature 
Er  sche  was  born,  upon  her  limes  fre,  13450 

Wheras  by  right  such  colours  schulde  be  ; 
And  Phebus  deyed  hadde  hire  tresses  grete, 
I-lyk  to  the  stremes  of  his  borned  hete. 
And  if  that  excellent  was  hir  beaute, 
A  thousand  fold  more  vertuous  was  sche. 
In  hire  ne  lakketh  no  condicioun, 
That  is  to  preyse,  as  by  discrecioun. 
As  wel  in  body  as  goost  chaste  was  sche  j 
For  which  sche  iloured  in  virginite, 

13420.  Thit  knight  a  daughter.  Mas.  Harl.  and  Langd.  omit  the  first  tw« 
wnrils,  and  read  the  lino,  A  daughter  he  hculde  by  his  wyf. 

13431.  Apelles,  Zeuxis.  The  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  read  the  namei  cor- 
ruptly, Appoilus,  Zep/ierus.  This  reference  to  the  painters  of  antiquity,  fw 
well  as  most  of  the  ideas  relating  to  the  personilication  and  operations  of 
nature,  are  taken  from  the  Roman  </<•  La  Hose.  See  vol.  iii.  p.  102-3,  ed.  Meoiu 

1IU51.  1  have  In  this  line  adopted  Tyrwlmt's  reading.  The  Harl.  Ms.  read, 
Uert  tils  bright  as  tuch  colour  schulde  be.  Ms.  Lansd.  has  the  same  reading. 


366  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


With  alle  humilite  and  abstinence,  13460 

With  alle  attemperaunce  and  pacienee, 

With  mesure  eek  of  beryng  of  array. 

Discret  sche  was  in  answeryng  alway, 

Though  sche  were  wis  as  Pallas,  dar  I  tiayn, 

Hir  facound  eek  ful  wommanly  and  playn. 

Noon  countrefeted  termes  hadde  sche 

To  seme  wys  ;  but  after  hir  degre 

Sche  spak,  and  alle  hire  wordes  more  and  lesse 

Sounyng  in  vertu  and  in  gentilesse. 

Scharuefast  sche  was  in  maydenes  schamfastnesae, 

Constant  in  hert,  and  ever  in  besynesse,  13671 

To  dry  ve  hire  out  of  idel  slogardye. 

Bachus  had  of  hir  mouth  no  maistrye ; 

For  wyn  and  thought  doon  Venus  encrece, 

As  men  in  fuyr  wil  caste  oyle  or  grece. 

And  of  hir  oughne  vertu  unconstreigned, 

Sche  hath  ful  ofte  tyme  hire  seek  y-feyned, 

For  that  sche  wolde  fleen  the  companye, 

Wher  likly  was  to  treten  of  folye, 

As  is  at  festes,  reveles,  and  at  daunces,  13480 

That  ben  occasiouns  of  daliaunces. 

Suche  thinges  maken  children  for  to  be 

To  soone  rype  and  bold,  as  men  may  se, 

Which  is  ful  perilous,  and  hath  ben  yore  ; 

For  al  to  soone  may  sche  lerne  lore 

Of  boldenesse,  whan  sche  is  a  wyf. 

And  ye  maystresses  in  youre  oldelyf 

That  lordes  doughtres  han  in  governaunce, 

Ne  taketh  of  my  word  no  displesaunce  ; 

Thinketh  that  ye  ben  set  in  governynges  13490 

Of  lordes  doughtres,  oonly  for  tuo  thinges  ; 

Outlier  for  ye  han  kept  your  houeste, 

Other  elles  for  ye  han  falle  in  frelete, 

And  knowe  wel  y-nough  the  olde  daunce, 

And  conrie  forsake  fully  such  meschaunce 

For  everrno  ;  therfore,  for  Cristes  sake, 

Kepeth  wel  tho  that  ye  undertake. 

A  theof  of  venisoun,  that  hath  for-laft 

Hie  licorousnesse,  and  al  his  theves  craft. 

Can  kepe  a  forest  best  of  every  man.  13500 

13474.  wyn  and  thought.  1  have  retained  wyn  instead  of  toille,  which  lat- 
ter is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  MSB.  The  sense  would  seem  to 
require,  as  Tyrwhitt  conjectures,  sloutlie  instead  of  thought,  but  this  is  not 
found  in  the  MSS.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads,  with  Tyrwhitt,  youthe. 

13497.  This  line  is  given  from  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mas.,  instead  of  Tyr 
wbitt's  reading,  To  teche  htm  vcrtue  take  that  ye  ne  ilake. 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  DOCTOR  OF  PHtelK.        36; 


Now  kepe  hem  wel,  for  and  ye  wil  ye  can  ; 

Loke  wel,  that  ye  unto  no  vice  assent, 

Lest  ye  be  dampned  for  your  Avikked  entent, 

For  who  so  doth,  a  traytour  is  certayn  ; 

And  taketh  keep  of  that  that  I  schal  sayn  ; 

Of  al  tresoun  sovereyn  pestilence 

Is,  whan  a  wight  bytrayeth  innocence. 

Ye  fadres,  and  ye  modres  eek  also, 

Though  ye  han  children,  be  it  oon  or  mo, 

Youre  is  the  charge  of  al  her  sufferaunce, 

Whiles  thay  be  under  your  governaunce. 

Beth  war,  that  by  ensample  of  youre  lyvynge, 

Outher  by  necgligence  in  chastisynge, 

That  thay  ne  perische  ;  for  I  dar  wel  seye, 

If  that  thay  doon,  ye  schul  ful  sore  abeye. 

Under  a  schepherd  softe  and  necligent, 

The  wolf  hath  many  a  schep  and  lamb  to-rent. 

Sufflceth  oon  ensample  now  as  here, 

For  I  moot  turne  agein  to  my  matiere. 

This  mayde,  of  which  I  telle  my  tale  expresse.    13520 
So  kept  hir  self,  hir  neded  no  maystresse  ; 
For  in  hir  lyvyng  maydens  mighte  rede, 
As  in  a  book,  every  good  word  and  dede, 
That  longeth  unto  a  mayden  vertuous  ; 
Sche  was  so  prudent  and  so  bounteous. 
For  which  the  fame  outsprong  on  every  syde 
Bothe  of  hir  beaute  arid  hir  bounte  wyde  ; 
That  thurgh  the  loud  thay  praysed  hir  ilkoone, 
That  lovede  vertu,  save  envye  alloone, 
That  story  is  of  other  mermes  wele,  13580 

And  glad  is  of  his  sorwe  and  unhele, 
The  doctor  made  this  descripcioun. 
This  mayde  wente  upon  a  day  into  the  toun 
Toward  the  temple,  with  hir  moder  deere, 
As  is  of  yonge  maydepes  the  manere. 

Now  was  tlier  than  a  justice  in  the  toun, 
That  goveri/our  was  of  that  regioun. 
And  so  bifel,  this  juge  his  eyghen  cast 
Upon  this  mayde,  avysing  hir  ful  fast, 
As  sche  cam  forby  ther  the  juge  stood.  J354G 

Anoon  his  herte  chauiiged  and  his  mood, 
So  was  he  caught  with  beaute  of  this  mayde, 

13501.  kepe  hem.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  hir,  apparently  incorrectly. 

13510.  atyferaunce.     So  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mas.    Tyrwhitt  ranis  air- 


13532.  The  debtor.     In  the  margin  of  a  MS.  quoted  by  Tyrwhitt  tliis  d» 
•criptiou  of  enry  ia  aecribeu  to  St.  AuguBtiiie. 


868  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  to  him  self  ful  prively  he  sayde, 

"  This  mayde  schal  be  myn  for  any  man." 

Anoon  the  fe«nd  into  his  herte  ran, 

And  taughte  him  sodeinly,  that  he  by  slighte 

This  mayde  to  his  purpos  wynne  mighte. 

For  certes,  by  no  fors,  ne  by  no  meede, 

Him  thought  he  was  not  able  for  to  speede  ; 

For  jche  was  strong  of  frendes,  and  eek  scne          13550 

Conformed  was  in  such  soverayne  beaute, 

That  wel  he  wist  he  might  hir  nevei  wynna, 

As  for  to  make  hir  with  hir  body  synne. 

For  which  with  gret  deliberacioun 

He  sent  after  a  clerk  was  in  the  toun, 

The  which  he  knew  for  subtil  and  for  bold. 

This  juge  unto  the  clerk  his  tale  hath  told 

In  secre  wyse,  and  made  him  to  assure, 

He  schulde  telle  ?t  -to  no  creature  ; 

And  if  he  dede  he  schulde  lese  his  heed.  13560 

Whan  that  assented  was  this  cursed  reed, 

Glad  was  the  juge,  and  made  him  gret  cheere, 

And  gaf  him  giftes  precious  and  deere. 

Whan  schapen  was  al  this  conspiracye 
Fro  poynt  to  poynt,  how  that  his  leccherie 
Parformed  scholde  be  ful  subtilly, 
A  ye  schul  here  after-ward  openly, 
Horn  goth  this  clerk,  that  highte  Claudius. 
This  false  juge,  that  highte  Apius,  — 
(So  was  his  name,  for  it  is  no  fable,  13570 

But  knowen  for  a  storial  thing  notable  ; 
The  sentence  of  itsoth  is  out  of  doute),  — 
This  false  jugge  goth  now  fast  aboute 
To  hasten  his  delit  al  that  he  may. 
And  so  bifel,  soone  after  on  a  day 
This  false  juge,  as  telleth  us  the  story, 
As  he  was  wont,  sat  in  his  consistory, 
And  gaf  his  domes  upon  sondry  caas  ; 
This  false  clerk  com  forth  a  ful  good  paas, 
And  saide,  "  Lord,  if  that  it  be  your  wille,  13580 

As  doth  me  right  upon  this  pitous  bille, 


13551-  Conformed.  .  .  •  beaut&.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  an 
Mss.    Tyrwhitt  reads  Confenntd  and  bounti,  which  seem  to  m&ke  a  bettor 
•ense- 

13557.  clerk.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  J.ansd.  Mss.  Tyrwbitt, 
mto  gives  the  reading  chtrl,  says  he  took  it  from  "  the  best  MSB.  and  ed.  Ca. 
2.  The  common  editt.  have  client.  In  the  Horn,  de  la  R.  where  this  story  is 
fold,  ver.  6815-5S94,  Claudius  is  called  Sergtnt  of  Appius  :  and  accordingly 
Chaucer  a  little  lower,  ver.  1L'204,  calls  him  '  servant—  unto  —  Appius.'"  Clerk 
•eems  the  better  reading,  as  a  cherl  would  hardly  possess  thrals  or  bonds- 
men. 


T1IE  TALE  OF  THE  DOCTOR  OF  PHIS1K.        369 

Iii  which  I  pleyne  upon  Virginius. 

And  if  he  wile  seyn  it  is  nought  thus, 

I  wil  it  prove,  and  fynde  good  witnesse, 

That  soth  is  that  my  bille  wol  expresse." 

The  juge  ariswerd,  "  Of  this  in  his  absence 

I  may  not  give  diffinityf  sentence. 

Let  do  him  calle,  and  I  wol  gladly  hiere  ; 

Thou  schalt  have  alle  right,  and  no  wrong  heere." 

Virginius  corn  to  wite  the  jugges  wille,  13590 

And  right  anoon  was  red  this  cursed  bille; 

The  sentence  of  it  was  as  ye  schul  heere. 

"  To  yow,  rny  lord  sire  Apius  so  deere, 
Scheweth  youre  pore  servaunt  Claudius, 
How  that  a  knight  called  Virginius, 
Ageins  the  lawe,  agens  alle  equyte, 
Eoldeth,  expresse  ageinst  the  wille  of  me, 
My  servaunt,  which  that  my  thral  is  by  right, 
Which  fro  myn  hous  was  stolen  on  a  night 
Whiles  sche  was  ful  yong,  that  wol  I  preve  13600 

By  witnesse,  lord,  so  that  ye  yow  not  greve  j 
Sche  is  nought  his  doughter,  what  so  he  say. 
Wherfore  to  yow,  my  lord  the  jugge,  I  pray, 
Yelde  me  my  thralle,  if  that  it  be  your  wille." 
Lo,  this  was  al  the  sentence  of  the  bille. 

Virginius  gan  upon  the  clerk  byholde ; 
But  hastily,  er  he  his  tale  tolde, 
And  wolde  have  proved  it,  as  schold  a  knight, 
And  eek  by  witnessyrig  of  many  a  wight, 
That  al  was  fals  that  sayde  his  adversarie,  13610 

This  cursed  juge  wold  no  lenger  tarye, 
Ne  heere  a  word  more  of  Virginius, 
But  gaf  his  jugement,  and  saide  thus  ; 
"  I  derne  anoon  this  clerk  his  servaunt  have. 
Thou  schalt  no  lenger  in  thin  hous  hir  save. 
Go  bringe  hir  forth,  and  put  hir  in  oure  Avarde. 
This  clerk  schal  have  his  thral  ;  thus  I  awarde/' 

And  whan  this  worthy  knight  Virginius, 
Thurg  thassent  of  this  juge  Apius, 
Moste  by  force  his  deere  doughter  given 
Unto  the  juge,  in  lecchery  to  lyven, 
He  goth  him  horn,  and  sette  him  in  his  halle, 
And  leet  anoori  his  deere  doughter  calle  ; 
And  with  a  face  deed  as  aisshen  colde, 
Upon  hir  humble  face  he  gan  byholde, 
With  fadres  pite  stilting  thorugh  his  herte, 

13416.  »ave.     So  Ms.  Lang.i.;  Ms.  Harl.  reads  have. 


370  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Al  wolde  he  from  his  purpos  not  converte, 

"  Doughter,"  quod  he,  "  Virginia  by  name, 

Ther  ben  tuo  weyes,  eyther  deth  or  schame, 

That  thou  most  suffre.  alias  that  I  was  bore  1        13630 

For  never  thou  deservedest  wherfore 

To  deyen  with  a  swerd  or  with  a  knyf. 

O  deere  doughter,  ender  of  iny  lif, 

Which  I  have  fostred  up  with  such  plesaunce, 

That  thou  nere  never  oute  of  my  remembraunce  ; 

0  doughter,  which  that  art  my  laste  wo, 

And  in  this  lif  my  laste  joye  also, 

O  gemme  of  chastite  in  pacience 

Tak  thou  thy  deth,  for  this  is  my  sentence ; 

For  love  and  not  for  hate  thou  must  be  deed,          3640 

My  pitous  hond  mot  smyten  of  thin  heed. 

Alias  that  ever  Apius  the  say ! 

Thus  hath  he  falsly  jugged  the  to  day." 

And  told  hir  al  the  caas,  as  ye  bifore 

Han  herd,  it  nedeth  nought  to  telle  it  more. 

"  Mercy,  deere  fader,"  quod  this  mayde. 
And  with  that  word  sche  bothe  hir  armes  layde 
Aboute  his  nekke,  as  sche  was  want  to  doo, 
(The  teeres  brast  out  of  hir  eyghen  tuo), 
And  sayde  :  "  Goode  fader,  schal  I  dye  ?  13650 

Is  ther  no  grace  ?  is  ther  no  remedye  ?  " 
"No,  certeyn,  deere  doughter  myn,"  quod  he. 
"  Than  geve  me  leve,  fader  myn,"  quod  sche, 
"My  deth  for  to  compleyne  a  litel  space  ; 
For  pardy  Jepte  gaf  his  doughter  grace 
For  to  compleyne,  er  he  hir  slough,  alias  ! 
And  God  it  woot,  no  thing  was  hir  trespas, 
But  that  she  ran  hir  fader  first  to  se, 
To  welcome  him  with  gret  solempnite." 
And  with  that  word  aswoun  sche  fel  anoon,  13660 

And  after,  whan  hir  swownyng  Avas  agoon, 
Sche  riseth  up,  and  to  hir  fader  sayde  ; 
"  Blessed  be  God,  that  I  schal  deye  a  mayde. 

13*40.  For  love.    Rom.  de  la  R.  vol.  ii.  p.  77. 

Car  il  par  amors,  sans  haine, 

A  sa  belle  fille  Virgine 

Tantost  a  la  tfgte  cop&e, 

Et  puis  aujuge presentee 

Devaiit  tous  en  plain  consistoire  •' 

Et  li  juges.  selonc  1'estoire, 

Le  conimanda  tantost  d  prendre,  Ac. 
8«e  below,  v.  13670-3. 

13t>T>5.  Jcpte.  The  Harl.  and  Lansd.  MBS.  read  Jejfa.  Th!s  lef erenow  to 
Jephtha'p  daughter  is  one  of  the  anachronisms  so  common  in  the  medieval 
poets,  and  which  are  found  so  late  even  as  the  age  of  Shakespeare. 


THE  PROLOG E  OF  TEE  PARDONER.  371 

Geve  me  my  deth,  or  that  I  have  a  schame. 

Do  with  your  child  your  wille,  a  goddes  name  1 " 

And  with  that  word  sche  prayed  him  ful  ofte, 

That  with  his  swerd  he  schulde  smyte  hir  softe; 

And  with  that  word  on  swoune  doun  sche  fel. 

Hir  fader,  with  ful  sorwful  hert  and  fel, 

Hir  heed  of  smoot,  and  by  the  top  it  hente,  13070 

And  to  the  juge  bigan  it  to  presente, 

As  he  sat  in  his  doom  in  consistory. 

And  whan  the  juge  it  say,  as  saith  the  story, 

He  bad  to  take  him,  and  lionge  him  faste. 

But  right  anoon  all  the  poeple  in  thraste 

To  save  the  knight,  for  routhe  and  for  pite, 

For  knowen  was  the  fals  iniquite. 

The  people  anoon  had  suspect  in  this  thing, 

By  maner  of  this  clerkes  chalengyng. 

That  it  was  by  thassent  of  Apius  ;  13680 

That  wiste  wel  that  he  was  leccherous. 

For  which  unto  this  Apius  thay  goon, 

And  casten  him  in  prisoun  right  anoon, 

Wher  as  he  slough  him  self  ;  and  Claudius, 

That  servaunt  was  unto  this  Apius, 

Was  denied  for  to  honge  upon  a  tree  ; 

But  Virginius  in  his  grete  pite 

Prayde  for  him,  that  he  was  exiled, 

And  elles  certes  he  had  ben  bigiled.  18690 

The  remenaunt  were  anhanged,  more  and  lesse, 

That  were  consented  to  this  cursednesse. 

Her  may  men  se  how  synrie  hath  his  merite  ; 
Be  war,  for  110  man  woot  how  God  wol  sinyte 
In  no  degre,  ne  in  which  maner  wise 
The  worm  of  conscience  wol  agrise 
Of  wicked  lyf,  though  it  so  pryve  be, 
That  no  man  woot  of  it  but  God  and  he  ; 
Whether  that  he  be  lewed  man  or  lered, 
He  not  how  soone  that  he  may  be  afered. 
Therfore  I  rede  yow  this  counseil  take,  13700 

Forsakith  synne,  er  synne  yow  forsake 


THE  PBOLOGE  OF  THB  PARDONER. 

OWRE  ost  gan  swere  as  he  were  wood  ; 
"  Harrow  !  "  quod  he,  "  by  navies  arid  by  blood  I 
This  was  a  cursed  thef,  a  fals  justice. 
Afl  echeiidful  deth  as  herte  can  devise 


372  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


So  falle  upon  his  body  and  his  boones  ! 

The  devel  I  bykenne  him  al  at  oones  ! 

Alias  I  to  deere  boughte  sche  hir  beaute. 

Wherfore  I  say,  that  alle  men  may  se, 

That  giftes  of  fortune  or  of  nature  13710 

Ben  cause  of  deth  of  many  a  creature. 

Hir  beaute  was  hir  deth,  I  dar  wel  sayn  ; 

Alias  !  so  pitously  as  sche  was  slayn  ! 

vOf  bothe  giftes,  that  I  speke  of  now, 

Men  han  ful  often  more  for  harm  than  prow.} 

"But  trewely,  myn  owne  maister  deere, 
This  was  a  pitous  tale  for  to  heere  ; 
But  natheles,  pas  over,  this  is  no  fors. 

I  pray  to  God  to  save  thy  gentil  corps, 
And  eek  thyn  urinals,  and  thy  jordanes,  13720 

Thyn  Ypocras,  and  eek  thy  Galianes, 
And  every  boist  ful  of  thi  letuarie. 
God  bless  hem  and  cure  lady  seinte  Marie  ! 
So  mot  I  then,  thou  art  a  propre  man. 
And  y-lik  a  prelat,  by  seint  Runyan. 
Sayde  I  not  wel  ?  can  I  not  speke  in  terme  ? 
But  wel  I  woot,  thou  dost  myn  herte  erme, 
I  have  almost  y-caught  a  cardiacle  ; 
By  corpus  boones,  but  I  have  triacle, 
Other  elles  a  draught  of  moyst  and  corny  ale,        Ib730 
Other  but  I  hiere  anoon  a  mery  tale, 
Myn  hert  is  brost  for  pite  of  that  mayde. 
Thow,  pardoner,  thou,  belamy,"  he  sayde, 
"Tel  us  a  tale,  for  thou  canst  many  oon." 

"  It  schal  be  doon,"  quod  he,  "  and  that  anoon. 
But  first,"  quod  he,  "  her  at  this  ale-stake 
I  wil  both  drynke  and  byten  on  a  cake." 
But  right  anoon  the  gentils  gan  to  crie, 
"Xay,  let  him  tellen  us  no  ribaudye. 
Tel  us  som  moral  thing,  that  we  may  leere."          13740 
"  Gladly,"  quod  he,  and  sayde  as  ye  schal  heere. 
"  But  in  the  cuppe  wil  I  me  bethinke 

13706-  So  falle.  &c.    Instead  of  this  and  the  following  line,  Tyrwhirt 


Come  to  thise  juges  and  hir  advoeas. 
Algatc  this  sely  maide  is  slain,  alas  I 

13714-5,  These  two  lines  are  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.,  and  they  seta 
superiluot*.  Tyrwhitt  has  made  them  up  from  more  than  one  MS. 

13720-1.  These  two  lines  are  also  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.,  but  they  seem 
necessary  for  the  sense,  and  are  given  here  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.  For  i_w  ex- 
planation of  the  last  of  these  two  lines  see  the  note  on  1.  433. 

13741-2.    Instead  of  these  two  lines,  Tyrwhitt  and  the  Lansd.  Mi.  hav, 

Som  wit,  and  thanne  wol  we  gladly  here. 
I  grauute  y-wis,  ^uod  he,  but  I  must  think*. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  PARDONER.     373 


Upon  som  honest  tale,  whil  I  drinkc." — 
"  Lordyngs,"  quod  he,  "  in  chirche  whan  I  preche, 

I  peyne  me  to  have  an  hauteyn  speche, 

And  ryng  it  out,  as  lowd  as  doth  a  belle, 

For  I  can  al  by  rote  that  I  telle. 

My  teeme  is  alway  oon,  and  ever  Avas  j 

Radix  malorum  est  cupiditas. 
"  First  I  pronounce  whennes  that  I  come,  13750 

.\nd  thanne  my  bulles  schewe  I  alle  and  some  ; 

Our  liege  lordes  seal  upon  my  patent, 

That  schewe  I  first  my  body  to  warent, 

That  no  man  be  so  hardy,  prest  ne  clerk, 

Me  to  destourbe  of  Cristes  holy  werk. 

Bulles  of  popes,  and  of  cardynales, 

Of  patriarkes,  and  of  bisshops,  I  schewe, 

And  in  Latyn  speke  I  wordes  fewe 

To  savore  with  my  predicacioun,  18760 

And  for  to  stere  men  to  devocioun. 

Thanne  schewe  I  forth  my  longe  cristal  stoones, 

I-crammed  ful  of  cloutes  and  of  boones, 

Reliks  thay  ben,  as  wene  thei  echoon.. 

Than  have  I  in  latoun  a  schulder  boon, 

Which  that  was  of  an  holy  Jewes  scheep. 

Good  men,"  say  I,  "  tak  of  my  wordes  keep  ; 

If  that  this  boon  be  waische  in  eny  welle, 

If  cow,  or  calf,  or  scheep,  or  oxe  swelle, 

That  eny  worm  hath  ete,  or  worm  i-stonge,  13770 

Tak  water  of  that  welle,  and  waisch  his  tonge, 

And  it  is  hool  anoon  ;  and  forthermore 

Of  pokkes,  and  of  scabbe,  and  every  sore, 

Schal  every  scheep  be  hool,  that  of  this  welle 

Drynketh  a  draught ;  tak  heed  eek  what  I  telle. 

If  that  the  goode  man,  that  the  beest  oweth, 

Wol  every  wike,  er  that  the  cok  him  croweth, 

Fastynge,  drynke  of  this  welle  a  draught, 

As  thilke  holy  Jew  oure  eldres  taught, 

His  beestes  and  his  stoor  schal  multiplie.  13780 

And,  sires,  also  it  kelith  jalousie. 

For  though  a  man  be  ful  in  jalous  rage, 

Let  make  with  this  water  his  potage, 

And  never  schal  he  more  his  wyf  mystrist 

Though  he  the  soth  of  hir  defaute  wist ; 

Al  hadde  sche  take  prestes  tuo  or  thre. 

13749.  radix  malorum.  The  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Ms>s.  have  radix  omnium 
malorum,  but  the  word  omnium  seems  to  be  redundant,  and  spoils  the  metre. 

13781.  kelith.  The  Lan»d.  Ms.  has,  with  Tyrwhitt,  fieleth,  which  is  perhaps 
the  bettor  reading. 


8V4  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Here  is  a  meteyn  eek,  that  ye  may  see  ; 

Be  that  his  honcle  put  is  this  metayn, 

He  schal  have  multiplying  of  his  grayn, 

Whan  he  hath  sowen,  be  it  whete  or  otes,  13790 

So  that  ye  offre  pans  or  elles  grootes, 

And,  men  and  wommen,  oon  thing  warne  I  yow  ; 

If  eriy  wight  be  in  this  chirche  now, 

That  hath  doon  synne  orrible,  that  he 

Dar  nought  for  schame  of  it  schryven  be ; 

Or  ony  womman,  be  sche  yong  or  old, 

That  hath  y-maad  hir  housbond  cokewold, 

Such  folk  schal  have  no  power  ne  grace 

To  ollre  to  my  relikes  in  this  place. 

And  who  so  fint  him  out  of  suche  blame,  13800 

Thay  wol  come  up  and  offre  in  Goddes  name, 

And  I  assoile  hem  by  the  auctorite, 

Which  that  by  bulle  was  i-graunted  me. 
"  By  this  gaude  have  I  wonne  every  yeer 

An  hundred  mark,  syn  I  was  pardoner. 

I  stonde  lik  a  clerk  in  my  pulpit, 

And  whan  the  lewed  people  is  doun  i-set, 

I  preche  so  as  ye  have  herd  before, 

And  telle  hem  an  hondred  japes  more. 

Than  peyne  I  me  to  strecche  forth  my  neoke,         13810 

And  est  and  west  upon  the  people  I  bekke, 

As  doth  a  dowfe,  syttyng  on  a  berne  ; 
Myn  hondes  and  my  tonge  goon  so  yerne, 

That  it  is  joye  to  se  my  busynesse, 

Of  avarice  and  of  such  cursednesse 

Is  al  my  preching,  for  to  make  hem  fre 

To  geve  here  pans,  and  namely  unto  me. 

For  myn  enterit  is  nought  but  for  to  wynne, 

And  no  thing  for  correccioun  of  synne. 

I  rekke  never  when  thay  ben  i-beryed.  13820 

Though  that  here  soules  gon  a  blakeberyed. 

"  For  certes  many  a  predicacioun 
Cometh  ofte  tyme  of  evel  entencioun  ; 
Som  for  plesauns  of  folk  and  flaterie, 
To  ben  avaunced  by  ypocrisie  ; 
And  som  for  veirie  gloir,  and  sorn  for  hate. 
For  whan  I  dar  not  other  weys  debate, 
Than  wil  I  stynge  him  with  my  tonge  smerte 
In  preching,  so  that  he  schal  not  asterte 
To  be  diflamed  falsly,  if  that  he  18830 

Uath  trespast  to  my  bretheren  or  to  me. 
For  though  I  telle  not  his  propre  name, 
Men  schal  wel  knowe  that  it  is  the  same 


TFS  PROLOGS  OF  THE  PARDONER.  375 

By  BJr- D  •  '<*,  and  by  other  circumstaunces. 

Thus  quyt  I  folk,  that  doon  us  displeasaunces  ; 

Thus  puo  I  out  uiy  yenyui  under  hiewe 

Of  holyiids,  to  seme  holy  and  trawe. 

But  schortly  myn  entent  I  wol  devyse, 

I  prsche  no  thing  but  of  coveityse. 

Therfor  my  teem  is  yit,  and  ever  was,  13840 

Radix  malorum  est  cupiditas 

"Thus  can  I  preche  agayn  the  same  vice 
Which  tnat  I  use,  and  that  is  avarice. 
But  though  my  self  be  gulty  in  the  synne, 
Yit  can  I  make  other  folk  to  twynne 
From  avarice,  and  soone  to  repent. 
But  that  is  not  my  principal  eotent ; 
I  preche  no  thing  but  for  coveitise. 
Of  this  matier  it  ought  i-nough  suffise. 

"  Than  telle  I  hem  ensamples  may  oon  13850 

Of  olde  thinges  longe  tyme  agoon. 
For  lew^d  poeple  loven  tales  olde : 
Which  thinges  can  thay  wel  report  and  holde. 
What  ?  trowe  ye,  whiles  I  may  preche 
And  wynne  gold  and  silver  for  I  teche, 
That  1  wil  lyve  in  povert  wilfully  ? 
Nay,  nay,  I  thought  it  never  trewely. 
For  I  wol  preche  and  begge  in  sondry  londes, 
I  wil  do  no  labour  with  myn  hondes, 
Ne  make  basketis  and  lyve  therby,  13860 

Bycause  I  wil  nought  begge  ydelly. 
I  wol  noon  of  thapostles  counterfete  ; 
I  wol  have  money,  wolle,  chese,  and  whete,    , 
Al  wore  it  geven  of  the  prestes  page. 
Or  of  the  porest  wydow  in  a  village, 
And  schold  hir  children  sterve  for  famyn. 
Nay,  I  wol  drinke  licour  of  the  wyn, 
And  have  a  joly  wencue  in  every  toun. 
But  herkrieth,  lordynges,  in  conclusioun 
Youre  likyng  is  that  I  schal  telle  a  tale.  13870 

N^ow  have  I  dronk  a  draught  of  corny  ale, 
By  God,  1  hope  I  schal  telle  yow  a  thing, 
That  schal  by  resouri  be  at  youre  liking ; 
For  though  my  self  be  a  ful  vicious  man, 
A  moral  tale  yit  I  yow  telle  can, 

$64.  prestes  page.  The  Lanad.  Ms.  reads  porest  page,  which  is  the  read- 
]•(  idopted  by  Tyrwhitt. 

'he  J'ardoneres  Tale.  This  beautiful  moral  Btory  appears  to  have  been 
tali  .11  from  a  fabliau,  now  lost,  but  of  which  the  outline  is  preserved  in  th« 
NvotilU  A-itictie,  Nov.  Lxxxii.,  as  well  as  the  story  itself  by  Chaucer. 


576  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Which  1  am  wont  to  preche,  for  to  wynne. 
Now  hold  your  pees,  my  tale  I  wol  byginne.' 


THE  PARDONERES   TALE. 

IN  Flaundres  whilom  was  a  companye 
Of  yonge  folkes,  that  haunted  folye, 
As  ryot,  hasard,  stywes,  and  tavernes;  188W 

Wher  as  with  lutes,  harpes,  and  gyternes, 
Thaydaunce  and  play  at  dees  bothe  day  and  night, 
And  ete  also,  and  drynk  over  her  might ; 
Thurgh  which  thay  doon  the  devyl  sacrifice 
Withirine  the  develes  temple,  in  cursed  wise, 
By  superfluite  abhoniinable. 
Her  othes  been  so  greet  and  so  dampnable, 
That  it  is  grisly  for  to  hiere  hem  swere, 
Our  blisful  Lordes  body  thay  to-tere  ; 
Hem  thoughte  Jewes  rent  him  nought  y-nough  ;  1?890 
And  ech  of  hem  at  otheres  synne  lough. 
And  right  anoon  ther  come  tombesteris 
[Fetis  and  smale,  arid  yonge  fruitesteres, 
Singers  with  harpes,  baudes,  wafereres,] 
Whiche  that  ben  verray  de\reles  officeres, 
To  kyndle  and  blowe  the  fuyr  of  leccherie, 
That  is  annexid  unto  glotonye. 
The  holy  wryt  take  I  to  my  witnesse, 
That  luxury  is  in  wyii  and  dronkenesse. 
Lo,  how  that  dronken  Loth  unkyndely  13900 

Lay  by  his  doughtres  tuo  unwityngly, 
So  dVonk  he  was  he  niste  what  he  wrought. 
Herodes,  who  so  wel  the  story  sought, 
Whan  he  of  wyn  was  repleet  at  his  fest, 
Right  at  his  oughne  table  gaf  his  hest 
To  sle  the  baptist  Johan  ful  gilteles. 
Seneca  seith  a  good  worde  douteles  ; 
He  saith  he  can  no  difference  fynde 
Betuyx  a  man  that  is  out  of  his  mynde, 

13889.  to-tere.  The  common  oaths  in  the  middle  ages  were  by  the  different 
parts  of  God' B  body;  and  the  popular  preachers  represented  that  profav* 
•wearers  tore  Christ's  body  by  tlieir  imprecations. 

13893-4.  These  two  lines  are  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms. 

13898.  holy  wryt.  Ms.  Harl.  and  others  have  in  the  margin  the  reference, 
1  Nolite  inebriare  vino,  in  quo  est  luxuria. 

13900.  dronken  Loth.  This  transgression  of  Lot  is  one  of  the  most  favorite 
examples,  in  the  medieval  moralists,  of  the  ill  consequences  of  drunkenness. 
Compare  fiers  Ploughman,  1.  512,  et  seqq. 

13907.  Seneca.  "  Perhaps  he  refers  to  Epist.  Ixxxiii.  Extende  in  pluree 
dies  ilium  ebrii  habitum  :  nunquid  de  furore  dubitatis  1  nuiic  quoque  nou 
Mt  minor  sed  brevier." — Tyrwhitt. 


THE  PARDONERES  TALE.  377 

And  a  man  the  which  is  dronkelewe  ;  13910 

But  that  woodnes,  fallen  in  a  schrewe, 
Persevereth  lenger  than  doth  dronkenesse. 

O  glutonye,  ful  of  corsidnesse; 
O  cause  first  of  our  confusioun, 
O  original  of  oure  dampnacioun, 
Til  Crist  had  bought  us  with  his  blood  agayn  f 
Loketh,  how  dere,  schortly  for  to  sayn, 
A  bought  was  first  this  cursed  felonye  ; 
Corupt  was  al  this  world  for  glotonye. 
Adam  our  fader,  and  his  wyf  also,  139SO 

Fro  Paradys  to  labour  and  to  wo 
Were  dryven  for  that  vice,  it  is  no  drede. 
For  whils  that  Adam  fasted,  as  I  rede, 
He  was  in  Paradis,  and  whan  that  he 
Eet  of  the  fruyt  defendit  of  a  tre, 
He  was  out  cast  to  wo  and  into  peyne. 

0  giotony,  wel  ought  us  on  the  pleyne  1 
O,  wist  a  man  how  many  maladyes 
Folwith  of  excesse  and  of  glotonyes, 

He  wolde  be  the  more  mesurable  13980 

Of  his  diete,  sittyng  at  his  table. 

Alias  !  the  schorte  throte,  the  tendre  mouth, 

Maketh  that  Est  and  West,  and  North  and  South, 

In  erthe,  in  watir,  in  ayer,  man  to  swynke, 

To  gete  a  sely  glotoun  mete  and  drynke. 

Of  this  matier,  O  Poul,  wel  canstow  trete. 

Mete  unto  wombe,  and  wonibe  unto  mete, 

Schal  God  destroyeii  bothe,  as  Powel  saith. 

Alias  !  a  foul  thing  is  it  by  my  faith 

To  say  this  word,  and  fouler  is  the  dede,  18940 

Whan  men  so  drynke  of  the  whyt  and  rede, 

That  of  his  throte  he  makith  his  prive 

Thurgh  thilke  cursed  superfiuite. 

Thapostil  wepyng  saith  ful  pitously, 

Ther  walkith  many,  of  which  you  told  have  I, 

1  say  it  now  wepyng  with  pitous  vois, 
Thay  are  enemys  of  Cristes  croys  ; 

Of  which  the  ende  is  deth,  wombe  is  her  God. 
O  wombe,  o  bely,  o  styriking  is  thi  cod, 

13918.  felonye.    The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads,  with  Tyrwhitt,  vilanie. 

13923.  whils  that  Adam.  In  the  margin  of  Ms.  Harl.  ia  the  quotation, 
Quamdiu  jejunavit  Adam  in  Paradyso  fuit,  come<iit  et  ejectus  est ;  static 
d'udt  uxorem,  &c.  It  ifl  from  Hterouymus  contra  Jovinianum. 

i;«o7.  Mete  unto  w<rml/e.  The  margin  of  the  Harl.  Ms.  has  the  quouitiou, 
«ca  veutris  et  venter  escis,  I>eus  auttjm  hunc  et  illiiiu  destruet,  &c. 

i;i^l-l.  Thapostil  .  .  .  saith.  I'kiiipp.  iii.  18,  19,  Multi  enim  ambulant, 
quo.-'  s:epe  dicobam  vobis  (nuuc  autem  ct  fluns  dico)  inimicoB  crucis  ChriMla  : 
quorum  liiiiB  iuteritUK,  quorum  deuu  venter  eKt. 


378  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Fulfild  of  dong  and  of  corrupcioun  ;  13950 

At  eyther  ende  of  the  foul  is  the  soun. 

How  gret  cost  and  labour  is  the  to  fynde  ! 

These  cokes  how  they  stamp,  and  streyn,  and  grynde, 

And  torne  substaunce  into  accident, 

To  fulfille  thy  licorous  talent ! 

Out  of  the  harde  boones  gete  thay 

The  mary,  for  thay  cast  nought  away 

That  may  go  thurgb  the  golet  softe  and  soote  ; 

Of  spicery  and  levys,  barke  and  roote, 

Schal  ben  his  sause  maad  to  his  delyt  13960 

To  maKe  him  have  a  newe  appetit. 

But  certes  he  that  haunteth  suche  delices, 

Is  deed  ther,  whiles  that  he  lyveth  in  vices. 

A  licorous  thing  is  wyn,  and  dronkenesse 

Is  ful  of  stryvyng  arid  of  wrecchednesse. 

O  dronke  man,  disfigured  is  thi  face, 

Sour  is  thi  breth,  foul  artow  to  embrace  ; 

A  thurgh  thi  dronkenesse  sowneth  the  soun, 

As  though  thou  seydest  ay,  Sampsoun,  Sampsoun  ; 

And  yit,  God  wot,  Sampson  drank  never  wyn        13970 

Thow  fallist,  as  it  were  a  stiked  swyn  ; 

Thy  tonge  is  lost,  and  al  thin  honest  cure, 

For  dronkenes  is  verray  sepulture 

Of  inannes  witt  and  his  discrecioun. 

In  whom  that  dryrik  hath  dominacioun, 

He  can  no  counseil  kepe,  it  is  no  drede. 

Ne  keep  yow  from  the  white  and  from  the  rede, 

And  namely  fro  the  white  wyn  of  Leepe, 

That  is  to  selle  in  Fleetstreet  or  in  Chepe. 

This  wyn  of  Spayne  crepith  subtily  13980 

In  other  wynes  growyng  faste  by, 

Of  which  ther  riseth  such  fumosite, 

That  whan  a  man  had  dronke  draughtes  thre, 


13968.  dronkenesse.  Tyrwhitt  has  drwtken  nose,  which  in  perhaps  the  bet 
tti  reading. 

13978.  wliite  wi/n  of  Leepe,  "According  to  the  geographers,  Lepe  was  not 
?&r  from  Cadiz.  This  wine,  of  whatever  sort  it  may  have  been,  was  probably 
much  stronger  than  the  Gascon  wines,  usually  drunk  in  England.  I.t 
Kcohelle  and  Bordeaux,  the  two  chief  ports  of  Gasoony,  were  both,  in 
Chaucer's  time,  part  of  the  English  dominions.  Spanish  wines  might  also 
De  more  alluring  on  account  of  their  greater  rarity.  Among  the  Orders  of 
the  Royal  Household,  in  1604,  is  the  following  (Ms.  Harl.  2!B,  to!  162) :  'Anil 
whereas,  in  tymes  past,  Spanish  wines,  called  sacke,  were  little  >jr  noe  whH 
use  in  our  courte,  and  that  in  later  years,  though  not  of  ordinary  allowance 
it  wa»  thought  convenient,  that  noblemen,  &c.  might  have  a  boule  or  glas«, 
\T.  We  understanding  that  it  it?  now  used  as  common  drinke,  &c.,  reduc* 
the  allowance  to  twelve  gallons  a  day  for  the  court,  &<:.'  " — Ti/rwhitt. 

18H79.  Flce.tstreet.  So  the  Hurl.  J\l».  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  fi'ischestrete, 
wnich  i»  Uie  reading  adopted  by  1'yrwhitt. 


THE  PAEDONERES  TALE.  379 

And  weneth  that  he  be  at  horn  in  Chepe, 

He  is  in  Spayne,  right  at  the  toun  of  Lepe, 

Nought  at  the  Roohel,  ne  at  Burdeaux  toun  ; 

And  thanne  wol  thai  say,  Sampsoun,  Sampsoun. 

But  herken,  lordyngs,  o  word,  I  you  pray, 

That  alle  the  soverayn  actes,  dar  I  say, 

Of  victories  in  the  Olde  Testament,  139JM 

That  thurgh  the  verray  God  omnipotent 

Were  doon  in  abstinence  and  in  prayere ; 

Lokith  the  Bible,  and  ther  ye  may  it  Mere. 

Loke  Atthila,  the  grete  conquerour, 

Deyd  in  his  sleep,  with  schame  and  dishonour, 

Bleedyng  ay  at  his  nose  in  dronkenesse  ; 

A  captayn  schuld  ay  lyve  in  sobrenesse. 

And  over  al  this,  avyse  yow  right  wel, 

What  was  comaunded  unto  Lamuel ; 

Nought  Samuel,  but  Lamuel  say  I.  14000 

Redith  the  Bible,  and  fyndeth  expresly 

Of  wyn  gevyng  to  hem  that  han  justice. 

No  more  of  this,  for  it  may  well  suffice. 

And  now  that  I  have  spoke  of  glotonye, 

Now  wil  I  yow  defende  hasardrye. 

Hasard  is  verray  moder  of  lesynges, 
And  of  deceipt,  and  cursed  forsweringes ; 
Blaspheme  of  Crist,  manslaught,  and  wast  alec 
Of  catel,  and  of  tyme  ;  and  forthermo 
It  is  reproef,  and  contrair  of  honour,  14010 

For  to  be  halde  a  comun  hasardour. 
And  ever  the  heyer  he  is  of  astaat, 
The  more  is  he  holden  desolaat. 
If  that  a  prince  use  hasardrie, 
In  alle  governance  and  policie 
He  is,  as  by  comun  opinioun, 
Holde  the  lasse  in  reputacioun. 
Stilbon,  that  was  a  \vis  embasitour, 
Was  sent  unto  Coririthe  with  gret  honour 
Fro  Lacidome,  to  make  hir  alliaunce  ;  1409C 

13993.  hiere.    The  Lansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt  have  lere. 

13994.  Atthila.    Attila   died  in    the  night   suffocated  by  a  hemorrhage 
Snught  on  by  a  debauch,  in  the  year  45.3,  when  he  waa  preparing  for  »  iie* 
•nTadion  of  Italy. 

14001.  Redith  the  Bible.    See  Proverbs,  xiiii. 

HOL'O.  Lacidome.  The  Lansdowiie  Ms.  reads  Cahdonye,  and  Tyrwhiu 
adopts  CalUlonc  in  his  text ;  but  he  observes  in  the  note,  "  John  of  Salisbury, 
from  whom  our  author  probubly  took  this  story  and  the  following,  calls  him 
Chi/on.  I'olycrat.  lib.  i.  c.  5.  Cliilon  Laeedannonius,  jugendae  sooietatis  cans* 
mig.-us  Corinthum,  duces  et  seniores  populi  ludentes  invenit  in  alea.  Infect* 
ItAque  negotio  revensus  est,  &c.  Accordingly,  in  ver.  14020,  MB.  C.  1.  rcad« 
rerv  rightly  I.acedoinye  instead  of  t'lliilone,  the  commou  reading.  O»» 
kuduor  has  before  used  Lar.edomif  for  f^act'dwmon." 


380  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  whan  he  cam,  him  happede  par  chaunce. 

That  alle  the  grettest  that  were  of  that  lond 

Playing  atte  hasard  he  hem  fond. 

For  which,  as  soone  as  it  mighte  be, 

He  stal  him  hooni  agein  to  his  contre, 

And  saide  ther,  "  I  nyl  nought  lese  my  name, 

I  nyl  not  take  on  me  so  gret  diffarne, 

Yow  for  to  allie  unto  noon  hasardoures. 

Sendeth  som  other  wise  embasitoures, 

For  by  my  trouthe,  me  were  lever  dye,  11080 

Than  I  yow  scholde  to  hasardours  allye. 

For  ye,  that  ben  so  glorious  in  honoures, 

Schal  not  allie  yow  with  hasardoures, 

As  by  my  wil,  ne  as  by  my  trete." 

This  wise  philosophre  thus  said  he. 

Lo  eek  how  that  the  king  Demetrius 
The  king  of  Parthes,  as  the  book  saith  us, 
Sent  him  a  paire  dees  of  gold  in  scorn, 
For  he  had  used  hasard  ther  to-forn  ; 
For  which  he  hield  his  gloir  and  his  renoun  14041 

At  no  valieu  or  reputacioun. 
Lordes  may  fynde  other  maner  play 
Honest  y-nough  to  dryve  away  the  day. 

Now  wol  I  speke  of  othes  fals  and  grete 
A  word  or  tuo,  as  other  bookes  entrete. 
Gret  swering  is  a  thing  abhominable, 
And  fals  swering  is  more  reprovable. 
The  hyhe  God  forbad  sweryug  at  al, 
Witnes  on  Mathew  ;  but  in  special 

Of  sweryng  saith  the  holy  Jeremye,  14051 

Thou  schalt  say  soth  thin  othes,  and  not  lye  ; 
And  swere  in  doom,  and  eek  in  rightwisnes  ; 
But  ydel  sweryng  is  a  cursednes. 
Bihold  and  se,  ther  in  the  firste  table 
Of  hihe  Goddes  heste  honurable, 
How  that  the  secounde  heste  of  him  is  this  ; 
Tak  not  in  ydel  my  name  or  amys. 
Lo,  rather  he  forbedith  such  sweryng, 
Than  homicide,  or  many  a  corsed  thing. 
I  say  that  as  by  order  thus  it  stondith  ;  14060 

This  knoweth  he  that  the  hestes  understondeth, 
How  that  the  second  hest  of  God  is  that. 
And  forthermore,  I  wol  the  telle  a  plat, 
That  vengance  schal  not  parte  fro  his  ho  us, 

14038.  hazard.  This  is  Tyrwhitt's  reading,  eupported  by  the  Lansd.  Ms  , 
>lti?h  reads  hasardry.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  tavern,  which  does  not  »j{r*6  ••* 
<«U  with  the  context. 


THE  1'ARDONERES  TALE.  381 


That  of  his  othes  is  outrageous. 
"  By  Goddes  precious  hert,  and  by  his  nayles, 
And  by  the  blood  of  Crist,  that  is  in  Hayles. 
Seven  is  my  chaunce,  and  also  cink  and  t**ay  ! 
By  Goddes  armes,  and  thou  falsly  play, 
This  daggere  schal  thurgh  thin  herte  goo  1  "  14U70 

This  fruyt  cometh  of  the  bicchid  boories  tuo, 
Forswering,  ire,  falsnes,  homicide. 
Now  for  the  love  of  Crist  that  for  us  dyde, 
Levith  youre  othis,  bothe  gret  and  smale. 
But,  ».res,  now  wol  I  telle  forth  my  tale. 
These  riottoures  thre,  of  which  I  telle, 
Longe  erst  than  prime  rong  of  eny  belle, 
Were  set  hem  in  a  tavern  for  to  drynke  ; 
And  as  thay  sat,  thay  herd  a  bell  clinke 
Biforn  a  corps,  was  caried  to  the  grave  ;  14080 

That  oon  of  hem  gan  calle  unto  his  knave, 
"  Go  bet,"  quoth  he,  "  and  axe  redily, 
What  corps  is  that,  that  passeth  her  forthby ; 
And  loke  that  thou  import  his  name  wel." 
"  Sire,"  quod  he,  "  but  that  nedeth  never  a  del , 
It  was  me  told  er  ye  com  heer  tuo  houres  ; 
He  was,  pardy,  an  old  felaw  of  youres, 
And  sodeinly  he  was  i-slayn  to  night ; 
For-dronk  as  he  sat  on  his  bench  upright, 
Ther  coin  a  prive  thef,  men  clepen  Deth,  14090 

That  in  this  contre  al  the  peple  sleth. 
And  with  his  spere  he  smot  his  hert  a-tuo, 
And  went  his  way  withoute  wordes  mo. 

14066.  hi»  nayles.  Not  his  finger-nails,  but  the  nails  with  which  he  WM 
nailed  to  the  crbas.  These  were  objects  of  superstition  in  the  middle  ages. 
Sir  John  Maundeville,  c.  vii.  says,  "  And  thereby  in  the  walle  is  the  place 
where  the  four  navies  of  onre  Lord  weren  hidd  ;  for  he  had  two  in  hie 
hondes,  and  two  in  his  feet ;  and  of  on  of  theise  the  emperour  of  Constanty- 
nohle  made  a  brydille  to  his  hors,  to  bere  him  in  bataylle  ;  and  thorghe  ver- 
tuo  thereof  he  overcam  his  enemyes,  &c."  He  had  said  before,  c.  ii.  that 
*  on  of  the  nayles  that  Crist  was  naylled  with  on  the  cros,"  was  at  Constanty- 
•oble  ;  and  "  on  in  France,  in  the  kinges  chapelle." 

140G7.  blood  .  .  .  in  Jfayles.  "The  abbey  of  Hailes,  in  Gloucestershire,  waa 
Wnnded  by  Richard,  king  of  the  Romans,  brother  to  Henry  III.  This  pre- 
icui  relic,  which  was  afterwards  commonly  called  'the  blood  of  Hailes,'  was 
nought  out  of  Germany  by  the  son  of  Richard,  Edmund,  who  bestowed  a 
jfihd  part  of  it  on  his  father's  abbey  of  Hailes,  and  some  time  after  gave  the 
ttiher  two  parts  to  an  abbey  of  his  own  foundation,  at  Ashrug,  near  Berk- 
tamsted.  Hollinsh.  v.  ii.  p.  '2.~5."—Tijrtchttt. 

14071.  bicchid  boonts.  This  is  the  general  reading  of  the  manuscripts,  and 
Tyrwhitt  acted  unadvisedly  in  changing  it  to  bicchel.  fticclied  bones  appear* 
to  have  been  not  an  uncommon  term  for  dice  :  in  the  Townclwy  mystery  of 
the  f'rocessus  Talentorum,  where  the  executioners  are  deciding  tAieir  right  to 
Christ's  tunic  by  throwing  the  dice,  one  of  them  (p.  241),  who  haa  lo«t,  ex- 
claims,— 

I  wat>  talaly  bogylyd  witlio  thine  '>ycttctl  buiut, 
Thtr  cureyd  thay  ot  ! 


882  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

He  hath  a  thousand  slayn  this  pestilence. 
And,  maister,  er  ye  come  in  his  presence, 
Me  thinketh  that  it  is  f  ul  necessarie, 
For  to  be  war  of  such  an  adversarie  ; 
Beth  redy  for  to  nieete  him  evermore. 
Thus  taughte  me  my  dame,  I  say  nomore." 
"  By  seinte  Mary  !  "  sayde  this  taverner,  141  (X) 

'  The  child  saith  soth  ;  for  he  hath  slayn  this  yeer, 
flens  over  a  myle,  withinne  a  gret  village, 
Bothe  man  and  wornman,  child,  and  hyne,  and  pag«-  ; 
I  trowe  his  habitacioun  be  there. 
To  ben  avysed  gret  wisdom  it  were, 
Er  that  he  dede  a  man  that  dishonour." 
"  Ye,  Goddis  armes  !  "  quod  this  ryottour, 
"  Is  it  such  peril  with  him  for  to  meete  ? 
I  schal  him  seeke  by  way  and  eek  by  strete. 
I  make  avow  to  Goddis  digne  boonesl  14110 

Herkneth,  felaws,  we  thre  ben  al  oones ; 
Let  ech  of  us  hold  up  his  hond  to  other, 
And  ech  of  us  bycome  otheres  brother, 
And  we  wil  slee  this  false  traitour  Deth  ; 
He  schal  be  slayne,  that  so  many  sleeth, 
By  Goddis  dignete,  er  it  be  night  I  " 

Togideres  ban  these  thre  here  trouthes  plight 
To  lyve  and  dye  ech  of  hem  with  other, 
As  though  he  were  his  oughne  sworne  brother. 
And  up  thai  startyn,  al  dronke  in  this  rage,  14120 

And  forth  thai  goon  towardes  that  village, 
Of  which  the  taverner  hath  spoke  biforn, 
And  many  a  grisly  oth  than  han  thay  sworn, 
A  nd  Cristes  blessed  body  thay  to-rent ; 
Peth  schal  be  deed,  if  that  they  may  him  hent. 
Right  as  thay  wolde  have  torned  over  a  style, 
Whan  thai  han  goon  nought  fully  a  myle, 
An  old  man  and  a  pore  with  hem  mette. 
This  olde  man  ful  mekely  hem  grette, 
And  saide  thus,  "Lordynges,  God  yow  se  I  "  14180 

The  proudest  of  the  ryotoures  thre 
Answerd  agein,  "  What  ?  carle,  with  sory  grace, 
Why  artow  al  for- wrapped  save  thi  face  ? 
Whi  lyvest  thou  so  longe  in  so  gret  age  ?  " 
This  olde  man  gan  loke  on  his  visage 

14103.  and  hyne.  1  hare  Inserted  these  two  words,  which  are  not  In  MM 
Harl.  and  Lansd.,  from  Tyrwhitt ;  they  appear  necessary  to  complete  th« 
line. 

14119.  swornt.  Tyrwhitt  reads  boren ;  but  he  does  not  appear  to  havebew) 
Aware  of  the  frequency  of  1Mb  sworn  fraternity  in  medieval  story. 


THE  PARDONERES  TALE.  383 


And  saide  thus,  "  For  that  I  can  not  fynde 

A  man,  though  that  I  walke  into  Inde, 

Neither  in  cite  noon,  ne  in  village, 

That  wol  chaunge  his  youthe  for  myn  age  ; 

And  therfore  moot  I  have  myn  age  stille  14140 

As  longe  tyme  as  it  is  Goddes  wille. 

And  deth,  alias !  ne  wil  not  have  my  lif. 

Thus  walk  I  lik  a  resteles  caytif, 

And  on  the'ground,  which  is  my  modres  gate, 

1  knokke  with  my  staf,  erly  and  late, 

And  saye,  "  Leeve  moder,  let  me  in. 

Lo,  how  I  wane,  fleisch,  and  blood,  and  skyn. 

Alias  1  whan  schuln  my  boones  ben  at  rest  ? 

Moder,  with  yow  wil  I  chaunge  my  chest, 

That  in  my  chamber  loiige  tyme  hath  be,  14150 

Ye,  for  an  haire  clout  to  wrap  in  me.' 

But  yet  to  me  sche  wol  not  do  that  grace, 

For  which  ful  pale  and  welkid  is  my  face. 

But,  sires,  to  yow  it  is  no  curtesye 

To  speke  unto  an  old  man  vilonye, 

But  he  trespas  in  word  or  elles  in  dede. 

In  holy  writ  ye  may  your  self  wel  rede, 

Agens  an  old  man,  hoor  upon  his  hede, 

Ye  schold  arise  ;  wherefor  I  yew  rede, 

Ne  doth  unto  an  old  man  more  harm  now,  14190 

Namore  than  ye  wolde  men  dede  to  yow 

In  age,  if  that  ye  may  so  long  abyde. 

And  God  be  with  you,  wherso  ye  go  or  ryde  1 

I  moot  go  thider  as  I  have  to  goo." 

"  Nay,  olde  cherl,  by  God  !  thou  schalt  not  so,' 

Sayde  that  other  hasardour  anoon  ; 

"  Thou  partist  nought  so  lightly,  by  seint  Johan 

Thou  spak  right  now  of  thilke  traitour  Deth, 

That  in  this  centre  alle  oure  frendes  sleth  ; 

Have  her  my  trouth,  as  thou  art  his  aspye,  14170 

Tel  wher  he  is,  or  elles  thou  schalt  dye, 

By  God  arid  by  that  holy  sacrament  1 

For  sothly  thou  art  oon  of  his  assent 

To  slen  us  yonge  folk,  thou  false  theef." 

"  Now,  sires,  than  if  that  yow  be  so  leef 

To  fynde  Deth,  torn  up  this  croked  way, 

For  in  that  grove  I  laft  him,  by  my  fay  ! 

Under  a  tree,  and  ther  he  wil  abyde  ; 

Ne  for  your  bost  he  nyl  him  no  thing  hyde. 

Se  ye  that  ook  ?  right  ther  ye  schuln  him  fynde.    14180 

God  save  yow,  that  bought  agein  mankynde, 

And  yow  amend."    Thus  sayde  this  olde  man, 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  everich  of  these  riotoures  ran, 

Til  thay  couie  to  the  tre,  and  ther  thay  founde 

Of  florins  fyn  of  gold  y-coyned  rounde, 

Wei  neygh  a  seven  busshels,  as  hem  thought. 

No  Jenger  thanne  after  Deth  thay  sought; 

But  ech  of  hem  so  glad  was  of  that  sight, 

For  that  the  florens  so  faire  were  and  bright, 

That  doun  thai  sette  hem  by  that  precious  liord.  1»190 

The  yongest  of  hem  spak  the  flrste  word. 

"  Bretheren,"  quod  he,  "  take  keep  what  I  schal  say  ; 

My  witte  is  gret,  though  that  I  bourde  and  play. 

This  tresour  hath  fortune  to  us  given 

In  mirth  and  jolyte  our  lif  to  lyven, 

And  lightly  as  it  cornth,  so  wii  we  spende. 

Ey,  Goddis  precious  dignite  1  who  wende 

To  day,  that  we  schuld  have  so  fair  a  grace? 

But  might  this  gold  be  caried  fro  this  place 

Horn  to  myn  hous,  or  ellis  unto  youres,  14200 

(For  wel  I  wot  that  this  gold  ia  nought  oures), 

Than  were  we  in  heyh  felicite. 

But  trewely  by  day  it  may  not  be  ; 

Men  wolde  say  that  we  were  theves  stronge, 

And  for  oure  tresour  dooii  us  for  to  houge. 

This  tresour  nioste  caried  be  by  night 

As  wysly  and  as  slely  as  it  might. 

Wherfore  I  rede,  that  cut  among  us  alle 

We  drawe,  and  let  se  wher  the  cut  wil  falle  ; 

And  he  that  hath  the  cut,  with  herte  blithe  14210 

Schal  renne  to  the  toun,  and  that  ful  swithe, 

And  bring  us  bred  and  wyn  ful  prively ; 

And  tuo  of  us  schal  kepe  subtilly 

This  tresour  wel ;  and  if  he  wil  not  tarie, 

Whan  it  is  night,  we  wol  this  tresour  carie 

By  oon  assent,  ther  as  us  liketh  best." 

That  oon  of  hem  the  cut  brought  in  his  fest, 
And  bad  hem  drawe  and  loke  wher  it  wil  falle  ; 
And  it  fel  on  the  yongest  of  hem  alle  ; 
And  forth  toward  the  toun  he  went  anoon.  14U2C 

And  al  so  soone  as  he  was  agoon, 
That  oon  of  hem  spak  thus  unto  that  other  , 
"  Thow  wost  wel  that  thou  art  my  sworne  brother, 
Thy  profyt  wol  I  telle  the  anoon. 
Thow  wost  wel  that  our  felaw  is  agoon, 
And  her  is  gold,  and  that  ful  gret  plente, 
That  schal  departed  be  among  us  tlire. 

14186.  a  seren  bussMs.     So   MSB.    Muri.   anil    Lausd.     Tyrwhitt   re*!*  Ml 


THE  PA11DONERES  TALE.  385 


But  natheles,  if  I  can  schape  it  so, 
That  it  departed  were  bitwix  us  tuo, 
Had  I  not  doon  a  frendes  torn  to  the  ?  "  14230 

That  other  answerd,  "  I  not  how  that  may  be  ; 
lie  'rot  wel  that  the  gold  is  with  us  tway. 
What  schulde  we  than  do  ?  what  schuld  we  say  ?  " 
"  Schal  it  be  counsail  ?  "  sayde  the  ferste  schrewe 
"  And  I  schal  telle  the  in  wordes  fewe 
What  we  schul  doon,  and  bringe  it  wel  aboute.  ' 
'  I  graunte,"  quod  that  other,  "  withoute  doute, 
fh.it  by  my  trouth  I  wil  the  nought  bywray." 

"Now,"  quod   the  first,  "  thou  wost  wel   we  ben 

tway, 

And  two  of  us  schuln  strenger  be  than  oon.  14240 

Lok,  whanne  he  is  sett,  thou  right  anoon 
Arys,  as  though  thou  woldest  with  him  pleye  ; 
And  I  schal  ryf  him  thurgh  the  sydes  tweye, 
Whils  that  thou  strogelest  with  him  as  in  game, 
And  with  thi  dagger  loke  thou  do  the  same ; 
And  than  schal  al  the  gold  departed  be, 
My  dere  frend,  bitwixe  the  and  me ; 
Than  may  we  oure  lustes  al  fulfille, 
And  play  at  dees  right  at  our  owne  wille." 
And  thus  accorded  ben  these  schrewes  twayn,       14250 
To  sle  the  thridde,  as  ye  herd  me  sayn. 

This  yongest,  which  that  wente  to  the  tor.n, 
Ful  fast  in  hert  he  rollith  up  and  doun 
The  beaute  of  the  florins  newe  and  bright ; 
"  O  Lord  ! "  quod  he,  "  if  so  were  that  I  might 
Have  al  this  gold  unto  my  self  alloone, 
Ther  is  no  man  that  lyveth  under  the  troone 
Of  God,  that  schulde  lyve  so  rnery  as  I.'' 
And  atte  last  the  feend  oure  enemy 
Put  in  his  thought,  that  he  schuld  poysoun  beye, 
With  which  he  mighte  sle  his  felaws  tweye.  4261 

For  why,  the  feend  fond  him  in  such  lyvynge 
That  he  had  leve  to  sorwe  him  to  brynge. 
For  this  witterly  was  his  ful  entent 
To  slen  hem  bothe,  and  never  to  repent. 
And  forth  he  goth,  no  lenger  wold  he  tary, 
Into  the  toun  unto  a  potecary, 
And  prayde  him  that  he  him  wolde  selle 
Born  poysoun,  that  he  might  his  rattis  quelle. 
And  eek  ther  was  a  polkat  in  his  hawe,  14270 

That,  as  he  sayde,  his  capouns  had  i-slawe  ; 
And  sa>d  he  wold  him  wreke,  if  that  he  might, 
On  verinyn,  that  destroyed  him  by  night. 


836  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Thapotecary  answerd  :  "  And  thou  schalt  have 

A  thing  that,  also  God  my  soule  save, 

In  al  this  world  ther  nys  no  creature. 

That  ete  or  dronk  had  of  this  confecture, 

Nought  but  the  mountaunce  of  a  corn  of  whete, 

That  he  ne  schuld  his  lif  anoon  for-lete ; 

Ye,  sterve  he  schal,  and  that  in  lasse  -rhile,  14280 

Than  thou  wilt  goon  a  paas  not  but  a  myle  ; 

The  poysoun  is  so  strong  and  violent." 

This  cursed  man  hath  in  his  hond  i-hent 

This  poysoun  in  a  box,  and  sins  he  ran 

Into  the  nexte  stret  unto  a  man, 

And  borwed  of  him  large  botels  thre  ; 

And  in  the  two  his  poysoun  poured  he  ; 

The  thrid  he  keped  clene  for  his  drynke, 

For  al  the  night  he  schop  him  for  to  swynke 

In  carying  the  gold  out  of  that  place.  14290 

And  whan  this  riotour,  with  sory  grace, 

Hath  fillid  with  wyn  his  grete  botels  thre, 

To  his  felaws  agein  repaireth  he. 

What  nedith  it  therof  to  sermoun  more  ? 
For  right  as  thay  had  cast  his  deth  bifore, 
Right  so  thay  han  him  slayn,  and  that  anoon. 
And  whan  this  was  i-doon,  thus  spak  that  oon  : 
"  Now  let  us  drynk  and  sitte,  and  make  us  niery 
A  ad  siththen  we  wil  his  body  bery." 
A  nd  afterward  it  happed  him  par  cas,  14300 

l'o  take  the  botel  ther  the  poysoun  was, 
And  drank,  and  gaf  his  felaw  drink  also, 
For  which  anon  thay  sterved  bothe  tuo. 
But  certes  I  suppose  that  Avyeen 
Wrot  never  in  canoun,  ne  in  non  fen, 
Mo  wonder  sorwes  of  empoisonyng, 
Than  hadde  these  wrecehes  tuo  or  here  endyng. 
Thus  endid  been  these  homicides  tuo, 
And  eek  the  fals  empoysoner  also. 

O  cursed  synne  ful  of  cursednesse  1  14 J'.  0 

O  traytorous  homicidy  !     O  wikkednesse  1 
O  glotony,  luxurie,  and  hasardrye  ! 
Thou  blasphemour  of  Crist  with  vilanye, 
And  othes  grete,  of  usage  and  of  pride  ! 
Alias  !  mankyndc,  how  may  it  bytyde, 
That  to  thy  creatour,  which  that  the  wrought, 
And  with  his  precious  herte-blood  the  bought, 
Thou  art  so  fals  and  so  unkynde,  alias  I 

14304.  Avyeen.  The  Harl.  Us.  reads  Ami/cen.  Avicenua  wa«  one  of  the 
Bo»t  distinguished  physicians  of  the  Arabian  school  of  the  eleventh  century, 
•»jd  enjoyed  great  popularity  in  the  middle  ages. 


THE  PABDONEBES  TALE.  387 


"  Now,  good  men,  God  forgeve  yow  your  trespaa, 
And  ware  yow  fro  the  synne  of  avarice.  14320 

Myn  holy  pardoun  may  you  alle  warice, 
So  that  ye  offren  noblis  or  starlinges, 
Or  elles  silver  spones,  broches,  or  rynges. 
Bowith  your  hedes  under  this  holy  bulle. 
Cometh  forth,  ye  wy ves,  and  offreth  your  wolle  ; 
Your  names  I  entre  her  in  my  rolle  anoon  ; 
Into  the  blis  of  heven  schul  ye  goon  ; 
I  yow  assoile  by  myn  heyh  power, 
I.'  ye  woln  offre,  as  clene  and  eek  als  cler 
As  ye  were  born.     And,  sires,  lo,  thus  I  preche ;    14330 
And  Jhesu  Crist,  that  is  oure  soules  leche, 
So  graunte  yow  his  pardoun  to  receyve  ; 
For  that  is  best,  I  wil  not  yow  disceyve. 
But,  sires,  o  word  forgat  I  in  my  tale ; 
I  have  reliks  and  pardoun  in  my  male, 
As  fair  as  eny  man  in  Engelond, 
Which  were  me  geve  by  the  popes  hond. 
If  eny  of  yow  wol  of  devocioun 
Offren,  and  have  myn  absolucioun, 
Cometh  forth  anon,  and  knelith  her  adoun,  14340 

And  ye  schul  have  here  my  pardoun. 
Or  elles  takith  pardoun,  as  ye  wende, 
Al  newe  and  freissch  at  every  townes  ende, 
So  that  ye  offren  alway  new  and  newe 
Nobles  and  pens,  which  that  ben  good  and  trewe. 
It  is  an  honour  to  every  that  is  heer, 
That  ye  may  have  a  ouffisaunt  pardoner 
Tassoile  yow  in  centre  as  ye  ryde, 
For  aventures  which  that  may  bytyde. 
For  paraunter  ther  may  falle  oon,  or  tuo,  14350 

Doun  of  his  hors,  and  breke  his  nekke  a-tuo. 
Loke,  such  a  seurote  is  to  you  alle 
That  I  am  in  your  felaschip  i-falle, 
That  may  assoyle  you  bothe  more  and  lasse, 
Whan  that  the  soule  schal  fro  the  body  passe. 
I  rede  that  oure  hoste  schal  bygynne, 
For  he  is  most  envoliped  in  synne. 
Com  forth,  sire  ost,  and  offer  first  anoon, 
And  thou  schalt  kisse  the  reliquis  everichoon, 
Ye,  for  a  grote  ;  unbocle  anon  thi  purs."  14360 

"  Nay,  nay,"  quod  he,  "  than  have  I  Cristes  curs  I 

14341.  And  ye  schul  have  'here.    Tyrwhitt  reads  And  meekly  receiveth.  Tb« 
Langd.  Ms.  read*  this  and  following  line  on  n  different  rhynio,— 
Commeth  for  anont>,  and  kneleth  adowne  here, 
And  ye  schal  have  my  pardon  that  is  dura. 


588  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Let  be,"  quod  he,  "  it  schal  not  be,  so  theech. 

Thou  woldest  make  me  kisse  thin  olcle  breech, 

And  swere  it  were  a  relik  of  a  seynt, 

Though  it  were  with  thy  foundement  depeynt. 

But  by  the  cros,  which  that  seynt  Heleyn  fond 

I  wold  I  had  thy  coylons  in  myn  hond, 

In  stede  of  reliks,  or  of  seintuary. 

Let  cut  hem  of,  I  wol  help  hem  to  cary  ; 

Thay  schul  be  schryned  in  an  hogges  tord."  14370 

This  Pardoner  answerde  nat  o  word  ; 

So  wroth  he  was,  he  wolde  no  word  say. 

"  Now,"  quod  oure  host,  "  I  wol  no  lenger  play 

With  the,  ne  with  noon  other  angry  man." 

But  right  anoon  the  worthy  knight  bygan, 

(Whan  that  he  saugh  that  al  the  peple  lough) 

"  No  more  of  this,  for  it  is  right  y-nough. 

Sir  Pardoner,  be  glad  and  mery  of  cheere ; 
And  ye,  sir  host     that  ben  to  me  so  deere, 
I  pray  yow  that    ye  kisse  the  Pardoner  ;  14380 

And.  Pardoner,     pray  yow  draweth  yow  ner, 
And  as  we  dede,   let  us  laugh  and  play." 

Anon  thay  kisse,  and  riden  forth  her  way. 

THE  SCHIPMAITNES  PROLOGB 

[OoR  hoste  upon  his  stirrops  stode  anon, 
And  saide,  "  Good  men,  herkeneth  everich/<>,, 
This  was  a  thrifty  tale  for  the  nones. 
Sire  parish  preest,"  quod  he,  "  for  Goddsti  bcnes, 

The  Schipmannes  Prologs.  The  Shlpman's  tale  has  no  prologue  in  t- ••» 
Ilarl.  Ms.,  and  in  other  of  the  best  copies  of  the  Canterbury  Tales.  The  p.»»- 
logue  here  given  is  from  Tyrwhitt,  who  observes, — "  The  taie  of  the  Shipman 
In  the  best  MSS.  lias  no  prologue.  What  has  been  printed  as  such  in  the  com- 
mon editions  is  evidently  spurious.  To  supply  this  defvct  I  have  ventured, 
upon  the  authority  of  one  MS.  (and,  I  confess,  not  one  of  the  best)  to  prefix  to 
this  tale  the  prologue  which  has  usually  been  prefixed  to  the  talo  of  the 
Squier.  As  this  prologue  was  undoubtedly  composed  by  Chaucer,  it  must 
Uave  had  a  place  somewhere  in  this  edition,  and  if  1  cannot  prove  that  it  was 
really  intended  by  him  for  this  place,  I  think  the  reader  will  allow  that  it  tils 
the  vacancy  extremely  well.  The  Pardoneres  tale  may  very  properly  be  called 
a  thrifty  tale,  and  he  himself  a  learned  man  (ver.  14475,8)  ;  and  all  the  latter 
p»»t,  though  highly  improper  in  the  mouth  of  the  curteis  Squier,  is  perfectly 
guitod  to  the  character  of  the  Shipman."  The  following  short  and  doggerel 
prologue  to  the  Shipman's  tale,  from  the  Laiisd.  Ms.,  is  given  only  as  an  vx 
ample  of  the  way  in  which  different  persona  attempted  to  supply  the  deficiei> 
ciea  in  Chaucer's  unfinished  work  : — 

Bot  than  spak  cure  oste  onto  malster  Schlpman, 

"  Maister,"  quod  he,  "  to  us  summe  tale  tel  ye  can, 

Wherewithe  ye  myght  glad  al  this  company, 

If  it  were  youre  pleselnge,  I  wote  wele  sekurlye." 

"  Series,"  quod  this  Schipman,  "  a  tale  1  can  telle, 

Aud  therfore  herkeneth  hvuderward  how  that  1  will  spelle." 


THE  SCIIIPMANNES  TALE. 


Tell  us  a  tale,  as  was  thy  forward  yore  ; 

I  see  wel  that  ye  lerned  men  in  lore 

Can  mochel  good,  by  Goddes  dignitee."  14390 

The  Person  him  answerd  :  "  Benedicite  I 
What  eileth  the  man,  so  sinfully  to  swere  ?  " 

Our  hoste  answered  :  "O  Jankin,  be  ye  there  ? 
Now,  good  men,  quod  our  hoste,  "  kerkneth  to  m« 
I  smell  a  loller  in  the  wind,"  quod  he. 
"  Abideth  for  Goddes  digne  passion, 
Tor  we  schul  han  a  predication  ; 
This  loller  herewol  prechen  us  somwhat." 

"  Nay  by  my  fathers  soule  !  that  schal  he  nat." 
Sayde  the  Schipman,  "  here  schal  he  nat  preche, 
He  schal  no  gospel  glosen  here  ne  teche.  14401 

We  leven  al  in  the  gret  God,"  quod  he. 
"He  wolden  so  wen  some  difficultee, 
Or  s'pringen  cockle  in  our  clene  corne. 
And  therfore,  hoste,  I  warne  thee  beforne, 
My  joly  body  schal  a  tale  telle, 
And  I  schal  clinken  you  so  mery  a  belle, 
That  I  schal  waken  al  this  compagnie  ; 
But  it  schal  not  ben  of  philosophie, 
Ne  of  physike,  ne  termes  queinte  of  lawe ;  1441C 

Ther  is  but  litel  Latin  in  my  mawe."] 

THE  SCHIPMANNES  TALK. 

A  MARCH  AUNT  whilom  dwelled  at  Seint  Denys, 
That  riche  was,  for  which  men  hild  him  wys. 
A  wyf  he  had  of  excellent  beaute, 
And  companable,  and  reverent  was  sche  ; 
Which  is  a  thing  that  causeth  more  despence, 
Than  worth  is  al  the  cher  and  reverence 
That  men  doon  hem  at  festes  or  at  daunces. 
Such  salutaciouns  and  continaunces 

14395.  a  loller.  "This  is  in  character,  as  appears  from  a  treatise  of  the 
time.  Harl.  Catal.  n.  1G6C.  '  Xow  iu  Engeloud  it  is  a  comun  protectioun 
ayens  presecutiouns— if  a  man  is  customable  to  swere  nedeles  and  fala  an  1 
unavised,  by  the  bones,  nailes,  and  sides,  and  other  members  of  Crist.— And 
to  absteyne  fro  othes  nedeles  and  unleful,— and  repreve  shine  by  way  of 
charite,  is  mater  and  cause  now,  why  prelates  and  some  lordes  sclaundren 
men,  and  clepen  hem  lollards,  eretikcs,'  et,c."—Tyrwhitt. 

14404.  Or  sprmgen  cockle.  This  alludes  to  a  punning  derivation  of  Loll- 
ardj  from  the  Latin  loliwn. 

I'he  Schipmannes  Tale.  In  this  tale  also  Chaucer  probably  gives  an  Eng- 
lish version  of  aii  earlier  French  fabliau.  The  same  story  probably  formed 
the  groundwork  of  the  first  story  in  the  Eighth.  Day  of  the  Decameron,  which 
differs  little  from  Chaiheer's  tale,  and  was  frequently  imitated  by 
conteurt. 


890  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Passeth,  as  doth  theschadow  on  a  wal ;  14430 

But  wo  is  him  that  paye  moot  for  al. 

The  saiy  housbond  algat  moste  pay, 

He  most  us  clothe  in  ful  good  array 

Al  for  his  oughne  worschip  richely  j 

In  which  array  we  daunce  jolily. 

And  if  that  he  may  not,  para  venture, 

Or  elles  wil  not  such  dispens  endure, 

But  thynketh  it  is  wasted  and  i-lost, 

Than  moot  another  paye  for  oure  cost, 

Or  lene  us  gold,  that  is  perilous.  14480 

This  worthy  marchaunt  huld  a  noble  hous, 
For  which  he  hadde  alday  gret  repair 
For  his  largesce,  and  for  his  wyf  was  fair. 
What  wonder  is  ?  but  herkneth  to  my  tale. 

Amonges  al  these  gestes  gret  and  smale, 
Ther  was  a  monk,  a  fair  man  and  a  bold, 
I  trowe,  thritty  wynter  he  was  old, 
That  ever  in  oon  was  drawyng  to  that  place. 
This  yonge  monk,  that  was  so  fair  of  face, 
Aqueynted  was  so  with  the  goode  man,  14140 

Sith  that  her  firste  knowleche  bygan, 
That  in  his  hous  as  faniilier  was  he 
As  it  possibil  is  a  frend  to  be. 
And  for  as  mochil  as  this  goode  man 
And  eek  this  monk,  of  which  that  I  bygan. 
Were  bothe  tuo  i-born  in  oon  village, 
The  monk  him  claymeth,  as  for  cosynage  ; 
And  he  agein  him  saith  nat  oons  nay, 
But  was  as  glad  therof,  as  foul  of  day ; 
For  to  his  hert  it  was  a  gret  plesaunce.  14450 

Thus  ben  thay  knyt  with  eterne  alliaunce, 
And  ilk  of  hern  gan  other  to  assure 
Of  brotherhed,  whil  that  her  lif  may  dure. 
Fre  was  daun  Johan,  and  namely  of  despence 
As  in  that  hous,  and  ful  of  diligence 
To  do  plesaunce,  and  also  gret  costage  ; 
He  nought  forgat  to  geve  the  leste  page 
In  al  that  hous  ;  but,  after  her  degre, 
He  gaf  the  lord,  and  siththen  his  meyne, 
Whan  that  he  com,  som  maner  honest  thing  ;        14460 
For  which  thay  were  as  glad  of  his  comyng 
As  foul  in  fayn,  whan  that  the  sonne  upriseth. 
No  mor  of  this  as  now,  for  it  suffiseth. 

But  so  bifel,  this  marchaunt  on  a  day 

14454.  namely.     I  have  adopted  this  reading  from  the  Langcl.  Ala.    and 
ryrwhitt,  as  giving  apparently  the  best  sense.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  manly. 


THE  SCHIPMANNES  TALK  381 


Bchop  him  to  make  redy  his  array 

Toward  the  toun  of  Bruges  for  to  fare, 

To  byen  ther  a  porcioun  of  ware  ; 

For  which  he  hath  to  Paris  sent  anoon 

A  messanger,  and  prayed  hath  dan  Johan 

That  he  schuld  come  to  Seint  Denys,  and  play      14470 

With  him,  and  with  his  wyf,  a  day  or  tway, 

Er  he  to  Brigges  went,  in  alle  wise. 

This  nobil  monk,  of  which  I  yow  devyse, 

Hath  of  his  abbot,  as  him  list,  licence 

/Bycause  he  was  a  man  of  heih  prudence, 

And  eek  an  officer  out  for  to  ryde, 

To  se  her  graunges  and  her  bernes  wyde)  ; 

And  unto  Seint  Denys  he  cometh  anoon. 

Who  was  so  welcome  as  my  lord  dan  Johan, 

Oure  deere  cosyn,  ful  of  curtesie?  14480 

With  "him  brought  he  a  jubbe  of  Malvesie, 

And  eek  another  ful  of  wyn  vernage, 

And  volantyn,  as  ay  was  his  usage  ; 

And  thus  I  lete  him  ete,  and  drynk,  and  play, 

This  marchaunt  and  his  monk,  a  day  or  tway. 

The  thridde  day  this  marchaund  up  he  riseth, 
And  on  his  needes  sadly  him  avyseth  ; 
And  up  into  his  countour  hous  goth  he, 
To  rekyn  with  him  self,  as  wel  may  be, 
Of  thilke  yer,  how  that  it  with  him  stood,  14490 

And  how  that  he  dispended  had  his  good, 
And  if  that  he  encresced  were  or  noon. 
His  bookes  and  his  bagges  many  oon 
He  hath  byforn  him  on  his  counter  bord, 
For  riche  was  his  tresor  and  his  hord  ; 
For  which  ful  fast  his  countour  dore  he  schette  ; 
And  eek  he  wolde  no  man  schold  him  lette 
Of  his  accomptes,  for  the  mene  tyme  ; 
And  thus  he  sat,  til  it  was  passed  prime. 

Dan  Johan  was  risen  in  the  morn  also,  14500 

And  in  the  gardyn  walkith  to  and  fro, 
And  hath  his  thinges  said  ful  curteisly. 
This  good  wyf  com  walkyng  ful  prively 
Into  the  gardyn,  ther  he  walketh  softe, 
And  liim  salueth,  as  cche  hath  doon  ful  ofte. 
A  mayde  child  com  in  hir  compaignie, 

14466.  Bruges.  Bruges  was  the  grand  central  mart  of  European  commerce 
In  the  middle  ages,  until  its  decline  in  consequence  of  the  wars  and  trouble* 
Of  the  sixteenth  century. 

14483.  volant  yn.  So  the  Had.  MB.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  has  volatile,  which  tl 
(fce  reading  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt,  and  is  probably  the  correct  cue 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Which  as  hir  list  sche  may  governe  and  gye, 

For  yit  under  the  yerde  was  the  mayde. 

"  O  dere  cosyn  myn,  dan  Johan,"  sche  sayde, 

"  What  ayleth  yow  so  rathe  to  arise  ?  "  14510 

"  Nece,"  quod  he,  "  it  aught  y-nough  suffise 

Fyve  houres  for  to  slepe  upon  a  night  ; 

But  it  were  for  eny  old  palled  wight, 

As  ben  these  weddid  men,  that  lye  and  dare, 

As  in  a  forme  lith  a  wery  hare, 

Were  al  for-straught  with  houndes  gret  and  smale. 

But  dere-nece,  why  be  ye  so  pale  ? 

I  trowe  certis,  that  cure  goode  man 

Hath  on  yow  laborid,  sith  the  night  bygan, 

That  yow  were  nede  to  resten  hastiliche."  14520 

And  with  that  word  he  lowgh  ful  meriliche, 

And  of  hisowne  thought  he  was  al  reed. 

This  faire  wyf  bygan  to  schake  hir  heed, 
And  sayde  thus,  "  Ye,  God  wot  al,"  quod  sche. 
"  Nay,  cosyn  myn,  it  stant  not  so  with  me. 
For  by  that  God,  that  gaf  me  soule  and  h'f, 
In  al  the  veme  of  Fraunce  is  ther  no  wyf 
That  lasse  lust  hath  to  that  sory  play  ; 
For  I  may  synge  alias  and  waylaway 
That  I  was  born,  but  to  no  wight,'   quod  sche,      14530 
''  Dar  I  not  telle  how  it  stont  with  me. 
Wherfor  I  think  out  of  this  lond  to  wende, 
Or  elles  of  my  self  to  make  an  ende, 
So  ful  am  I  of  drede  and  eek  of  care." 

This  monk  bygan  upon  this  wyf  to  stare ; 
And  sayd,  "  Alias  I  my  nece,  God  forbede, 
That  ye  for  eny  sorw,  or  eny  drede, 
For-do  your  self ;  but  telleth  me  your  greef 
Paraventure  I  may  in  youre  mescheef 
Councel  or  help  ;  and  therfor  telleth  me  1 4540 

Al  your  annoy,  for  it  schal  be  secre. 
For  on  my  portos  here  I  make  an  oth, 
That  never  in  my  lif,  for  lief  ne  loth, 
Ne  schal  I  of  no  counseil  you  bywray." 
"  The  same  agein,"  quod  sche,  "  to  yow  I  say. 
By  God  and  by  this  portos  wil  I  swere, 
Though  men  me  wolde  al  in  peces  tere, 
Ne  schal  I  never,  for  to  go  to  helle, 
Bywreye  word  of  thing  that  ye  me  telle, 
Not  for  no  cosynage,  ne  alliaunce,  14550 

But  verrayly  for  love  and  affiaunce." 
Thus  ben  thay  sworn,  and  herupon  i-kist, 
4.ud  ilk  of  hem  told  other  what  hem  list. 


TUE  SCHIPMANNE8  TALE.  398 


"  Cosyn,"  quod  sehe,  "  if  that  I  had  a  space, 
As  I  have  noon,  and  namly  in  this  place, 
Then  wold  I  telle  a  legend  of  my  lyf, 
What  I  have  suffred  sith  I  was  a  wyf 
With  myn  housbond,  though  he  be  your  cosyn." 
"Nay,"  quod  this  monk,  "  by  God  and  seint  Martyn! 
He  is  no  more  cosyn  unto  me,  14560 

Than  is  this  leef  that  hongeth  on  the  tre ; 
I  cleped  him  so,  by  seint  Denis  of  Fraunce, 
To  have  the  more  cause  of  acqueyntaunce 
Of  yow,  which  I  have  loved  specially 
Aboven  alle  wommen  sikerly  ; 
This  swere  I  yow  on  my  professioun. 
Tellith  youre  greef,  lest  that  he  come  adoun, 
And  hasteth  yow  ;  and  goth  your  way  anoou," 
"  My  deere  love,"  quod  sche,  "  o  dan  Johan, 
Ful  leef  me  were  this  counseil  for  to  hyde,  14570 

But  out  it  moot,  I  may  no  more  abyde. 
Myn  housbond  is  to  me  the  worste  man, 
That  ever  was  siththe  the  world  bigan  ; 
But  sith  I  am  a  wif,  it  sit  nought  me 
To  telle  no  wight  of  oure  privete, 
Njythor  a  bedde,  ne  in  noon  other  place  ; 
Uod  schilde  I  scholde  telle  it  for  his  grace. 
A  vryf  ne  echal  not  say  of  hir  housbonde 
Bu    al  honour,  as  I  can  imderstonde. 
Save  unto  yow  thus  moche  telle  I  schal  ;  14580 

As  help  me  God,  he  is  nought  worth  at  al, 
In  no  degre,  the  valieu  of  a  flie. 
But  yit  me  greveth  most  his  nigardye. 
And  wel  ye  wot,  that  wymmen  naturelly 
Desiren  sixe  thinges,  as  wel  as  I. 
They  wolde  that  here  housbondes  scholde  be 
Hardy,  and  Avys,  and  riche,  and  therto  fre, 
And  buxom  to  his  wyf,  and  freisch  on  bedde. 
But  by  the  Lord  that  for  us  alle  bledde, 
For  his  honour  my  selven  to  array,  14590 

A  eonday  next  comyng  yit  most  I  pay 
An  hundred  frank,  or  elles  I  am  lorn. 
Yit  were  me  lever  that  I  were  unborn, 
Than  me  were  doon  a  sclaunder  or  vilenye. 
And  if  myn  housbond  eek  might  it  espie, 
1  tier  but  lost ;  and  therfor  I  yow  pray 
Lene  me  this  summe,  or  elles  mot  I  dey. 

H506.    This  line  la  omitted  in  MB.  Hurl,  and  Is  here  given  from  MB.  L*n* 
iiowue. 

14KJ7-14GOO.    These  four  lluea  ttre  ulao  omitted  in  the  llarl.  Mi.,  by  an  ori 


594  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Dan  Johan,  I  seye,  lene  me  this  hundred  frankes  ; 

Parde  I  wil  nought  faile  jrow  my  thankes, 

If  tha'  yow  list  to  do  that  I  yow  pray.  14600 

For  at  a  certein  day  I  wol  yow  pay, 

And  do  to  yow  what  pleasaunce  and  servise 

That  I  may  do,  right  as  you  list  devyse  ; 

And  but  I  do,  God  take  on  me  vengeaunce, 

As  foul  as  hadde  Geneloun  of  Fraunce  !  " 

This  gentil  monk  answard  in  this  uianere ; 
"  Now  trewely.  myn  owne  lady  deere, 
I  have  on  yow  so  gret  pite  and  reuthe, 
Thut  I  yow  swere,  and  plighte  yow  my  treuthe, 
Than  whan  your  housbond  is  to  Flaundres  fare,  14610 
I  schal  deliver  yow  out  of  youre  care, 
For  I  wol  bringe  yow  an  hundred  frankes." 
And  with  that  word  he  caught  hir  by  the  schankes, 
And  hir  embraced  hard,  and  kist  hir  ofte. 
"  Goth  now  your  way,"  quod  he,  "  al  stille  and  softe, 
And  let  us  dyne  as  sone  as  ye  may, 
For  by  my  chilindre  it  is  prime  of  day  ; 
Goth  now,  and  beth  as  trew  as  I  schal  be." 
"  Now  elles  God  forbede,  sire  !  "  quod  sche. 
And  forth  sche  goth,  as  joly  as  a  pye,  14620 

And  bad  the  cookes  that  thai  schold  hem  hye, 
So  that  men  myghte  dyne,  and  that  anoon. 
Up  to  hir  housbond  this  wif  is  y-goon, 
And  knokketh  at  his  dore  boldely, 
"  Qui  est  la  1 "  quod  he.     "  Peter  !  it  am  I," 
Quod  sche.     "  How  longe,  sire,  wol  ye  fast? 
How  longe  tyme  wol  ye  reken  and  cast 
Your  sommes,  and  your  bokes,  and  your  thinfc  *s? 
The  devel  have  part  of  alle  such  rekeriynges 
Ye  have  i-nough  pardy  of  Goddes  sonde.  14630 

Com  doun  to  day,  and  let  your  bagges  stonde. 
Ne  be  ye  not  aschamed,  that  daun  Johan 
Schal  alday  fastyng  thus  elenge  goon  ? 
What  ?  let  us  hiere  masse,  and  gowe  dyne." 

"  Wif,"  quod  this  man,  "  litel  canstow  divine 
The  curious  besynesse  that  we  have  ; 
For  of  us  chapmen,  al  so  God  me  save, 
And  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  seint  Ive, 

dent  error  of  the  scribe,  arising  from  a  similar  termination  of  lines  14596  and 

JVXXI.    They  are  hero  supplied  from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

I4t;05.  Geneloun.  Geneloun,  or  Ganelon,  in  the  old  romances,  WM  th« 
person  whose  treason  led  to  the  disastrous  battle  of  Koncesvalles. 

14(U7.  ehilimtre.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Ms*.  Ty* 
rhJtt  luu  substituted  Calender. 


THE  SCHIPMANNES  TALE.  895 


Scarsly  amonges  twelve,  two  schuln  thrive 

Contiiiuelly,  lastyng  into  her  age.  14640 

We  may  wel  make  cheer  and  good  visage, 

And  dryve  forth  the  world,  as  it  may  be, 

And  kepen  our  estat  in  privete, 

Til  we  be  deed,  or  elles  that  we  play 

A  pilgrimage,  or  goon  out  of  the  way. 

And  therfor  have  I  gret  necessite 

Upon  this   .ueynte  world  to  avyse  me. 

For  evermor  we  moste  stond  in  drede 

Of  hap  and  fortun  in  our  chapmanhede. 

To  Flaundres  wil  I  go  to  ruorw  at  day,  14650 

And  come  agayn  as  soone  as  I  may ; 

For  which,  my  deere  wif,  I  the  byseeke 

As  be  to  every  wight  buxom  and  meeke, 

And-for  to  kepe  oure  good  be  curious, 

And  honestly  governe  wel  our  hous. 

Thou  hast  y-nough,  in  every  maner  wise, 

That  to  a  thrifty  housbond  may  suffise. 

The  lakketh  noon  array,  ne  no  vitaile  ; 

Of  silver  in  thy  purs  thou  mayst  not  faile."  14659 

And  with  that  word  his  countour  dore  he  schitte, 

And  doun  he  goth  ;  no  lenger  wold  he  lette  j 

And  hastily  a  masse  was  ther  sayd, 

And  spedily  the  tables  were  i-layd, 

And  to  the  dyner  faste  thay  hem  spedde, 

And  rychely  this  chapman  the  monk  fedde. 

And  after  dyner  daun  Johan  sobrely 
This  chapman  took  on  part,  and  prively 
Sayd  him  thus  :  "  Cosyn,  it  stondeth  so, 
That,  wel  I  se,  to  Brigges  wol  ye  go  ; 
God  and  seint  Austyn  spede  you  and  gyde,  14670 

I  pray  yow,  cosyn,  wisly  that  ye  ryde  ; 
Governeth  yow  also  of  your  diete 
Al  temperelly,  and  namely  in  this  hete. 
Bitwix  us  tuo  nedeth  10  straunge  fare  ; 
Far  wel,  cosyn,  God  schilde  you  fro  care. 
If  eny  thing  ther  be  by  day  or  night, 
If  it  lay  in  my  power  and  my  might, 
That  ye  wil  me  comaunde  in  eny  wise, 
It  schal  be  doon,  right  as  ye  wol  devyse. 
O  thing  er  that  ye  goon,  if  it  might  be,  14680 

14639.  twelve,  two.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Ms«.,  e«- 
e«pt  that  the  latter  nab  tioeyne  for  two.  Tyrwhitt  reads  amimyes  twenty  ten. 

14<HO.  her.    The  Lansd.  MB.  reads  our. 

14667.  Aou.s {*>»*/.  This  ie  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  and  Langd  .Mw.  Tyr- 
whitt  read*  houafioltl.  1  think  the  rending  of  tho  MSS,  is  the  best  -thou  tuwt 
•nough  money,  consistent  with  a  thrifty  husband. 


896  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


I  wolde  pray  yow  for  to  lene  me 

An  hundred  frankes  for  a  wyke  or  tweye, 

For  corteyn  bestis  that  I  moste  beye, 

To  store  with  a  place  that  is  cures ; 

(God  help  me  so,  I  wolde  it  were  youres  !) 

I  schal  not  faile  seurly  of  my  day, 

Nought  for  a  thousand  frankes,  a  myle  way. 

But  let  this  thing  be  secre,  I  yow  pray  ; 

For  for  the  bestis  this  night  most  I  pay. 

And  fare  now  wel,  uiyn  owne  cosyn  deere.  14690 

Graunt  mercy  of  your  cost  and  of  your  cheere." 

This  noble  merchaunt  gentilly  anoon 
Answerd  and  sayde  :  "  O  cosyn  daun  Jaban, 
Now  sikerly  this  is  a  smal  request ; 
My  gold  is  youres,  whanne  that  yow  lest, 
And  nought  oonly  my  gold,  but  my  chaffare  ; 
Tak  what  yow  liste,  God  schilde  that  ye  spare  I 
But  oon  thing  is,  ye  know  it  wel  y-nough 
Of  chapmen,  that  her  money  is  here  plough. 
We  may  creaurice  whils  we  have  a  name,  14700 

But  goldles  for  to  be  it  is  no  game. 
Pay  it  agayn,  whan  it  lith  in  your  ese  ; 
After  my  might  ful  fayn  wold  I  yow  plese. 

This  hundred  frankes  he  set  forth  anoon, 
And  prively  be  took  hem  to  daun  Johan  ; 
No  wight  in  al  this  world  wist  of  this  loone, 
Savyng  this  marchaund,  and  daun  Johan  alloone, 
Thay  drynke,  and  speke,  and  rome  a  while  and  play, 
Til  that  dan  Johan  rydeth  to  his  abbay. 
The  rnorwe  cam,  and  forth  this  marchaund  rideth 
To  Flaundres-ward,  his  prentis  wel  him  gydeth,    1471i 
Pil  that  he  cam  to  Brigges  merily. 
Now  goth  this  marchaund  faste  and  busily 
Aboute  his  neede,  and  bieth,  and  creaunceth  ; 
He  neither  pleyeth  atte  dys,  ne  daunceth  ; 
But  as  a  marchaund,  schortly  for  to  telle, 
He  lad  his  lyf,  and  ther  I  let  him  dwelle. 

The  sonday  next  the  rnarchauncl  was  agoon. 
To  Seint  Denys  i-come  is  daun  Johan, 
With  croune  and  berd  al  freisch  and  newe  i-schave. 
In  al  the  hous  ther  nas  so  litel  a  knave,  14731 

Ne  no  wight  elles.  that  he  nas  ful  fayn, 
For  that  my  lord  dan  Johan  was  come  agayn. 
And  schortly  to  the  poynte  for  to  gon, 
This  'aire  wif  acordith  with  dan  Johan, 
That  for  these  hundred  frank  he  schuld  al  night 
Have  hir  in  his  armes  bolt  upright  ; 


THE  SCHIPMANNES  TALE.  397 


And  this  acord  parformed  was  in  dede. 

In  mirth  al  night  a  bisy  lif  thay  lede 

Til  it  was  day,  than  dan  Johan  went  his  way,        14730 

And  bad  the  meigne  far  wel,  have  good  day. 

For  noon  of  hem,  ne  no  wight  in  the  toun, 

Hath  of  dan  Johan  noon  suspeccioun  ; 

And  forth  he  rideth  honi  to  his  abbay, 

Or  wher  him  list,  no  more  of  him  say. 

This  marchaund,  whan  that  ended  was  the  faira, 
To  Seynt  Denys  he  gan  for  to  repeire, 
And  with  his  wif  he  maketh  fest  and  cheere, 
And  telleth  hir  that  chaffar  is  so  deere, 
That  needes  most  he  make  a  chevisaunce,  14740 

For  he  was  bounde  in  a  reconisaunce, 
To  paye  twenty  thousand  scheldes  anoon. 
For-  which  this  marchaund  is  to  Paris  goon, 
To  borwe  of  certeyn  frendes  that  he  hadde 
A  certein  frankes,  and  some  with  him  he  ladde. 
And  whan  that  he  was  come  into  the  toun, 
For  gret  chiertee  and  gret  affeccioun 
Unto  dan  Johan  he  first  goth  him  to  play  ; 
Nought  for  to  borwe  of  him  no  kyn  monay, 
But  for  to  wite  and  se  of  his  welfare,  14750 

And  for  to  telle  him  of  his  chaffare, 
As  frendes  doon,  whan  thay  ben  met  in  fere. 
Dan  Johan  him  maketh  fest  and  mery  cheere  ; 
And  he  him  told  agayn  ful  specially, 
How  he  had  bought  right  wel  and  graciously 
(Thanked  be  God  !)  al  hole  his  marchaundise  ; 
Save  that  he  most  in  alle  manere  wise 
Maken  a  chevyssauns,  as  for  his  best ; 
And  than  he  schulde  be  in  joye  and  rest. 
Dan  Johan  answerde,  "  Certis  I  am  fayn,  14760 

That  ye  in  hele  are  comen  horn  agayn  ; 
And  if  that  I  were  riche,  as  have  I  blisse, 
Of  twenty  thousand  scheld  schuld  ye  not  rnyaae, 
For  ye  so  kyndely  this  other  day 
Lente  me  gold  ;  and  as  I  can  and  may 
I  thanke  yow,  by  God  and  by  seint  Jaine. 
But  natheles  1  took  it  to  oure  dame, 
y  >ure  wif  at  home,  the  same  gold  agein 

14742.  tcheldes.  The  literal  version  of  the  French  icus,  or  crowns.  They 
«j«  said  to  have  received  their  name  from  bearing  the  figure  of  s.  shield  on 
one  side. 

14756.  hole.  I  have  added  this  word  from  the  Lansd.  MB.  ^  ~  omitted  in 
the  Hurl  Me. 

1470S.  at  home.    These  words  also  are  added  from  the  liar    <vis.,  as 
•Tideutlj  necessary  to  complete  the  metre. 


«98  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Upon  your  bench,  sche  wot  it  wel  certeyn, 
By  certein  toknes  that  I  can  hir  telle.  11778 

Now  by  your  leve,  I  may  no  lenger  duelle  ; 
Oure  abbot  wol  oat  of  this  toun  anoon, 
And  in  his  compaignye  moot  I  goon. 
Grete  wel  cure  dame,  myn  owen  nece  swete, 
And  far  wel,  dere  cosyn,  til  that  we  meete." 
This  marchaund,  which  that  was  bothe  war  and  wye, 
Creaunced  hath,  and  payed  eek  in  Parys 
To  certeyn  Lombardes  redy  in  hir  hond. 
This  somme  of  gold,  and  took  of  hem  his  hond, 
And  horn  he  goth,  as  niery  as  a  popinjay.  14780 

For  wel  he  knew  he  stood  in  such  array, 
That  needes  most  he  wynne  in  that  viage 
A  thousand  frankes,  above  al  his  costage. 
His  wyf  ful  redy  mette  him  at  the  gate, 
As  sche  was  wont  of  old  usage  algate  ; 
And  al  that  night  in  inirthe  thay  ben  sette, 
For  he  was  riche,  and  clerly  out  of  dette. 
Whan  it  was  day,  this  marchaund  gan  embrace 
His  wyf  al  newe,  and  kist  hir  on  hir  face, 
And  up  he  goth,  and  maketh  it  ful  tough.  14790 

"  No  more,"  quod  sche,  "  by  God,  ye  have  y-nough  ;  " 
And  wantounly  with  him  sche  lay  and  playde, 
Till  atte  laste  thus  this  marchaund  sayde  : — 
"  By  God,"  quod  he,  "  I  am  a  litel  wroth 
With  yow,  niy  wyf,  although  it  be  me  loth  ; 
And  wite  ye  why  ?  by  God,  as  that  I  gesse, 
Ye  ban  i-maad  a  maner  straungenesse 
Bitwise  me  and  my  cosyn  dan  Johan. 
Ye  schold  have  warned  me,  er  I  had  goon, 
That  he  yow  had  an  hundred  frankes  payd    ,        14800 
By  redy  tokne  ;  and  huld  him  evil  appayd  j 
For  that  I  to  him  spak  of  chevysaunce, 
(Me  seined  so  as  by  his  countenaunce)  ; 
But  natheles,  by  God  of  heven  king ! 
I  thoughte  nought  to  axe  him  no  thing. 
I  pray  the,  wyf,  do  thou  no  more  so. 
Tel  me  alway,  er  that  I  fro  the  go, 
If  eny  dettour  hath  in  myn  absence 
I-payed  the,  lest  in  thy  necgligeuce 
I  may  him  axe  a  thing  that  he  hath  payed."          14810 
This  wyf  was  not  atl'ered  ne  aifrayed, 

14778.  Lombardes.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  inform  the  reader  that  the 
Lombard  merchants  were  the  chief  money-dealers  in  the  tliirteeuth  and 
fourteenth  centuries,  after  the  Jews  had  been  placed  under  a  ban.  Lombard 
Street  in  Londou  scums  to  have  preserved  traditionally  the  peculiar  character 
gvreu  to  it  by  iu  former  inhabitants  from  whom  it  was  named. 


THE  PRIORESSES  PROLOGS.  399 

But  boldely  sche  sayde,  and  that  anoon  : 

"  Mary!  I  diffy  that  false  uionk,  dan  Johan, 

I  kepe  not  of  his  tokenes  never  a  del  j 

He  took  me  a  certeyn  gold,  that  wot  I  wel. 

What  ?  evel  thedom  on  his  inonkes  snowte  ! 

For,  Got  it  wot !  I  wende  withoute  doute, 

That  he  had  geve  it  me,  bycause  of  yow. 

To  do  therwith  myn  honour  and  my  prow, 

For  cosynage,  and  eek  for  bele  cheer  14826 

That  he  hath  had  ful  ofte  tyme  heer. 

But  synnes  that  I  stonde  in  this  disjoynt, 

I  wol  answer  yow  schortly  to  the  poynt. 

Ye  han  mo  slakke  dettours  than  am  I ; 

For  I  wol  pay  yow  wel  and  redily 

Fro  day  to  day,  and  if  so  be  I  faile, 

I  ain  your  wif,  score  it  upon  my  taile, 

A  nd  I  schal  paye  it  as  soone  as  I  may. 

For  by  my  trouthe,  I  have  on  rnyn  array, 

And  nought  on  wast,  bistowed  it  every  del.  14830 

And  for  I  have  bistowed  it  so  wel 

For  youre  honour,  for  Goddes  sake  I  say, 

As  beth  nought  wroth,  but  let  us  laugh  and  play  ; 

Ye  schul  niy  joly  body  have  to  wedde  ; 

By  God,  I  wol  not  pay  yow  but  on  bedde  ; 

Forgeve  it  me,  myn  owne  spouse  deere  ; 

Turne  hider-ward  arid  make  better  cheere." 

This  marchaund  saugh  noon  other  remedy ; 
And  for  to  chide,  it  nas  butfoly, 

Sith  that  the  thing  may  not  amendid  be.  14840 

"  Now,  wif,"  he  sayde,  "  and  I  forgive  it  the  ; 
And  by  thi  lif,  ne  be  no  more  so  large ; 
Keep  better  my  good,  this  give  I  the  in  charge." 
Thus  endeth  now  my  tale,  and  God  us  sende 
Talyng  y-nough,  unto  our  ly ves  ende  1 ' ' 

THE  PRIORESSES  PROLOGS. 

"  WEL  sayd,  by  corpus  boones  !  "  quod  oure  hcet, 
"  Now  longe  mot  thou  sayle  by  the  cost, 
Sir  gentil  maister,  gentil  mariner. 
God  give  the  monk  a  thousand  last  quade  yer. 
Haha  1  felaws,  be  war  for  such  a  jape.  14850 

The  monk  put  in  the  mannes  hood  an  ape, 
And  in  his  wyves  eek,  by  seint  Austyn. 
Draweth  no  moukes  more  unto  your  in. 
But  now  pas  over,  and  lot  u-s  loke  aboute, 
Who  schai  now  telle  first  of  al  this  route 


400  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Another  tale  ;  "  and  with  that  word  he  sayde, 

As  curteisly  as  it  had  ben  a  mayde, 

"  My  lady  Prioresse,  by  your  leve, 

So  that  I  wist  I  scholde  yow  not  greve, 

I  wolde  deme,  that  ye  telle  scholde  14860 

A  tale  next,  if  so  were  that  ye  wolde. 

Now  wol  ye  vouche  sauf,  my  lady  deere  ?  " 

"Gladly,"  quod  sche,  and  sayd  in  this  manere. 

THE  PRIORESSES  TALE. 

O  LORD,  oure  Lord,  thy  name  how  merveylou* 
Is  in  this  large  world  i-sprad  !  (quod  sche) 
For  nought  oonly  thy  laude  precious 
Parformed  is  by  men  of  heih  degre, 
But  by  mouthes  of  children  thy  bounte 
Parformed  is ;  on  oure  brest  soukynge 
Som  tyuie  schewe  thay  thin  heriynge.  14870 

Wherfore  in  laude,  as  I  best  can  or  may, 
Of  the  and  of  thy  white  lily  flour, 
Which  that  the  bar,  and  is  a  mayde  alway. 
To  telle  a  story  I  wil  do  my  labour ; 
Nought  that  I  may  encresce  youre  honour, 
For  sche  hir  silf  is  honour  and  roote 
Of  bounte,  next  hir  sone,  and  soules  boote. 

O  moodir  mayde,  o  mayde  mooder  fre, 
O  bussh  unbrent,  brennyng  in  Moises  sight, 
That  ravysshedest  doun  fro  the  deite,  14880 

Thurgh  thin  humblesse,  the  gost  that  \n  the  alight ; 
Of  whos  vertu,  he  in  thin  herte  pight, 
Concey ved  was  the  fadres  sapience ; 
Help  uie  to  telle  it  in  thy  reverence. 

Lady,  thi  bounte,  and  thy  magnificence, 
Thy  virtu  and  thi  gret  huinilite, 
Ther  may  no  tonge  expres  in  no  science  ; 
For  som  tyme,  lady,  er  men  pray  to  the, 
Thow  gost  biforn  of  thy  benignite, 

And  getist  us  the  light,  thurgh  thy  pray  ere,  14890 

To  gyden  us  the  way  to  thy  sone  so  deere. 

My  connyng  is  so  weyk,  o  blisful  queeno, 
For  to  declare  thy  grete  worthinesse, 
That  I  may  not  this  in  my  wyt  susteene  ; 

The  Prioresses  Tale.  The  subject  of  this  story  was  a  very  popular  legend 
IE  the  middle  ages,  told  in  a  variety  of  forms,  and  located  in  as  many  different 
places,  but  tending  and  perhaps  intended  to  keep  up  a  strong  prejudice 
against  the  Jews.  It  is  not  necessary  to  euumerate  these  different  stories. 

14864.  O  Lord,  oure  L?rd.  This  IN  a  t-ntuslaiiuu  ol  Ihe  lirst  words  of  Hk« 
eighth  Psalm,  l>omint,  Doiainut  ru>s(er,  etc. 


THE  PRIORESSES  TA^E.  401 


But  as  a  child  of  twelf  month  old  or  lesse, 
That  can  unnethes  eny  word  expresse, 
Right  so  fare  I,  and  therfor  I  you  pray, 
Gydeth  my  song,  that  I  schal  of  yow  say. 

Ther  was  in  Acy,  in  a  greet  citee,    • 
Amonges  Cristen  folk  a  Jewerye,  14900 

Susteyned  by  a  lord  of  that  centre, 
For  foul  usure,  and  lucre  of  felonye, 
Hateful  to  Crist,  and  to  his  compaignye  ; 
And  thurgh  the  strete  men  might  ride  and  wende, 
For  it  was  fre,  and  open  at  everich  ende. 

A  litel  scole  of  Cristen  folk  ther  stood 
Doun  at  the  forther  ende,  in  which  ther  were 
Children  an  hcep  y-comsn  of  Cristen  blood, 
That  lered  in  that  scole  yer  by  yere 
Such  maner  doctrine  as  men  used  there  ;  14910 

This  is  to  say,  to  synge  and  to  rede, 
As  smale  childer  doon  in  her  childhede. 

Among  these  children  was  a  widow  sone, 
A  litel  clergeoun,  that  seve  yer  was  of  age, 
That  day  by  day  to  scole  was  his  wone, 
And  eek  also,  wherso  he  saugh  thymage 
Of  Cristes  rnoder,  had  he  in  usage, 
As  him  was  taught,  to  knele  adoun,  and  say 
His  Ave  Maria,  as  he  goth  by  the  way. 

Thus  hath  this  widow  her  litel  child  i-taught     14920 
Oure  blisful  lady,  Cristes  moder  deere, 
To  worschip  ay,  and  he  forgat  it  nought ; 
For  cely  child  wil  alway  soone  leere. 
But  ay  whan  I  remeuibre  of  this  matiere, 
Seint  Nicholas  stont  ever  in  my  presence, 
For  he  so  yong  to  Crist  dede  reverence. 

This  litel  child  his  litel  book  lernynge, 
As  he  sat  in  the  scole  in  his  primefe, 
He  0  alma  redemptoris  herde  synge, 
As  children  lerned  her  antiphonere  ;  14936 

And  as  he  durst,  he  drough  him  ner  and  neere, 
And  herkned  ever  the  wordes  and  the  note, 
Til  he  the  firste  vers  couthe  al  by  rote. 

Nought  wist  he  what  this  Latyn  was  to  say, 

14898.  Gydeth.    The  Harl.  Ms.  has  endeth. 

14899.  Acy.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  Ace.    Tyrwhitt  Asie,  i.  e.  Asia. 

14902.  feionyc.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt  have  vilanye.  These  two 
irords  are  not  unfrequently  interchanged  in  the  MSS. 

14925.  Seint  Nicholas.  We  have  an  amusing  account  of  the  very  early 
piety  of  this  saint  in  his  lesson,  Jirev.  Roman,  vi.  Decemb.  "  Cujus  viri  sane- 
tatas,  quanta  futura  esset.  jam  ab  incunabulis  apparuit.  Nam  infans,  cure 
reliquas  dies  lac  nutricis  frequens  sugeret,  quarla  et  sexta  foria  (oil  Wedue* 
days  and  Fridays)  semel  duutaxat.  idque  Tesperi,  sugebat." 


*02 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


For  he  so  yong  and  tender  was  of  age  ; 

But  on  a  day  his  felaw  gan  he  pray 

To  expoune  him  the  song  in  his  langage, 

Or  telle  him  what  this  song  was  in  usage  ; 

This  prayd  he  him  to  construe  and  declare, 

Ful  often  tyme  upon  his  knees  bare.  14940 

His  felaw,  which  that  elder  was  than  he, 
Answerd  him  thus :  "  This  song,  I  have  herdseye, 
Was  maked  of  our  blisful  lady  fre, 
Hire  to  saluen,  and  eek  hire  to  preye 
To  ben  our  help  and  soeour  whan  we  deye. 
I  can  no  more  expoune  in  this  matere ; 
I  lerne  song,  I  can  no  more  gramer." 

"And  is  this  song  i-maad  in  reverence 
Of  Cristes  moder  ?  "  sayde  this  innocent ; 
"  Now  certes  I  wol  do  my  diligence  14950 

To  conne  it  al,  er  Cristemasse  be  went, 
Though  that  I  for  my  primer  schal  be  schent, 
Ind  schal  be  betyn  thries  in  an  hour, 
i  wol  it  conne,  oure  lady  to  honoure." 

His  felaw  taught  him  horn- ward  prively 
From  day  to  day,  til  he  couthe  it  by  rote, 
And  than  he  song  it  wel  and  boldely  ; 
Twyes  on  the  day  it  passed  thurgh  his  throte, 
From  word  to  word  accordyng  with  the  note, 
To  scole-ward  and  horn- ward  whan  he  went;         14961 
On  Cristes  moder  was  set  al  his  entent. 

As  I  have  sayd,  thurghout  the  Jewrye 
This  litel  child  as  he  cam  to  and  fro, 
Ful  merily  than  wold  he  synge  and  crie, 
0  alma  redemptoris,  evermo  ; 
The  swetnes  hath  his  herte  persed  so 
Of  Cristes  moder,,  that  to  hir  to  pray 
lie  can  not  styntof  syngyng  by  the  way. 

Oure  firste  foo,  the  serpent  Sathanas, 
That  hath  in  Jewes  hert  his  waspis  nest,  14970 

Upswal  arid  sayde  :  "0  Ebreik  peple,  alias  ! 
Is  this  a  thing  to  yow  that  is  honest, 
That  such  a  boy  schal  walken  as  him  lest 
In  youre  despyt,  and  synge  of  such  sentence, 
Which  is  agens  your  lawes  reverence  ?  " 

Fro  thennesforth  the  Jewes  han  conspired 
This  innocent  out  of  this  world  to  enchaoe  ; 
An  homicide  therto  han  thay  hired, 
That  in  an  aley  had  a  prive  place ; 

14*47.  no  more  gramer.    The  Lanad.  Ma.  and  Tyrwhitt  read  but  tmal  grm* 


PRIORESSES  TALE.  403 


And  as  the  childe  gan  forthby  to  pace,  14980 

This  false  Jewe  him  hent,  and  huld  ful  faste, 
And  kut  his  throte,  and  in  a  put  him  caste. 

I  say  in  a  wardrobe  thay  him  threw, 
Wher  as  the  Jewes  purgen  her  entraile. 
O  cursed  folk,  o  Ilerodes  al  newe, 
What  may  your  evyl  entente  you  availe  ? 
Morther  wol  out,  certeyn  it  wil  nought  faile, 
And  namly  ther  thonour  of  God  schuld  sprede; 
The  blood  out  crieth  on  your  cursed  dede. 

"  O  niartir  sondit  to  virgin!  te,  14990 

Now  maystow  synge,  folwyng  ever  in  oon 
The  white  lomb  celestial,"  quod  sche, 
"  Of  which  the  grete  evaungelist  seirit  Johan 
In  Pathmos  wroot,  which  seith  that  thay  that  goon 
Bifore  the  lamb,  and  synge  a  song  al  newe, 
That  never  fleischly  wommen  thay  ne  knewe." 

This  pore  widowe  wayteth  al  this  night, 
After  this  litel  child,  but  he  cometh  nought ; 
For  which  as  soone  as  it  was  dayes  light, 
With  face  pale,  in  drede  and  busy  thought,  15000 

Sche  hath  at  scole  and  elles  wlier  him  sought, 
Til  fynally  sche  gan  of  hem  aspye, 
That  he  was  last  seyn  in  the  Jewerie. 

With  moodres  pite  in  hir  brest  enclosed, 
Sche  goth,  as  sche  were  half  out  of  hir  mynde, 
To  every  place,  wher  sche  hath  supposed 
By  liklihede  hir  child  for  to  fynde  ; 
And  ever  on  Cristes  niooder  ineke  and  kynde 
Sche  cried,  and  atte  laste  thus  sche  wrought, 
Among  the  cursed  Jewes  sche  him  sought.  15010 

Sche  freyned,  and  sche  prayed  pitcusly 
lo  every  Jew  that  dwelled  in  that  place, 
To  telle  hir,  if  hir  child  weiite  ther  by  ; 
Thay  sayden  nay  ;  but  Jhesu  of  his  grace 
Gaf  \n  hir  thought,  withinne  a  litel  space, 
That  in  that  place  after  hir  sone  sche  cryde, 
Wher  as  he  was  cast  in  a  put  bysyde. 

O  grete  God,  that  parformedist  thin  laude 
By  mouth  of  innocentz,  lo,  here  thy  might! 
This  gemme  of  chastite,  this  emeraude,  15020 

And  eek  of  martirdoiu  the  ruby  bright, 
Ther  he  with  throte  y-corve  lay  upright, 

14982.  and  in  a  put  him  caste.  This  Is  the  reading  of  the  Langd.  Ms.  Th« 
Harl.  Ms.  reads  and  threw  him  in  atte  lasts* 

15022.  y-corve.  I  have  substituted  this  reading  (from  th«  Lanfcd.  Ms.)  for 
i-kut,  the  reading  of  the  llarl.  Ms. 


404  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


He  Alma  redemptoris  gan  to  synge 

So  lowde,  that  al  the  place  bigan  to  rynge. 

The  Cristen  folk,  that  thurgh  the  strete  went, 
In  comen,  for  to  wonder  upon  this  thing  ; 
And  hastily  for  the  provost  thay  sent. 
Jio  came  anoon,  without  tarying, 
And  heriede  Crist,  that  is  of  heven  king, 
And  eek  his  moder,  honour  of  mankynde,  15080 

And  after  that  the  Jewes  let  he  bynde. 

This  child  with  pitous  lamentacioun 
Up  taken  was,  syngyng  his  song  alway  ; 
And  with  honour  of  gret  processioun, 
Thay  caried  him  unto  the  next  abbay. 
His  moder  swownyng  by  the  beere  lay  ; 
Unnethe  might  the  poeple  that  was  there 
This  newe  Rachel  bringe  fro  the  beere. 

With  torment  and  with  schamful  deth  echon 
This  provost  doth  these  Jewes  for  to  sterve,  15040 

That  of  this  moerder  wist,  and  that  anoon  ; 
He  wolde  no  such  cursednesse  observe  ; 
Evel  schal  have,  that  evyl  wol  deserve. 
Therfore  with  wilde  hors  he  dede  hem  drawe, 
And  after  that  he  heng  hem  by  the  lawe. 

Upon  his  beere  ay  lith  the  innocent 
Biforn  the  chief  auter  whiles  the  masse  last  ; 
And  after  that,  thabbot  with  his  covent 
Han  sped  hem  for  to  burie  him  ful  fast ; 
And  whan  thay  halywater  on  him  cast,  150J»j 

Yet  spak  this  child,  whan  spreynde  was  the  water, 
And  song,  0  alma  redemptoris  mater. 

This  abbot,  which  that  was  an  holy  man. 
As  monkes  ben,  or  elles  oughte  be, 
This  yonge  child  to  conjure  he  bigan, 
And  sayd  :  "  O  deere  child,  I  halse  the, 
In  vertu  of  the  holy  Trinite, 
Tel  me  what  is  thy  cause  for  to  synge, 
Sith  that  thy  throte  is  kit  at  my  semynge." 

"  My  throte  in  kit  unto  my  nekke-boon," 
Sayde  this  child,  "  and  was  by  the  way  of  kynde 
I  schulde  han  ben  deed  long  tyme  agoon  ; 
But  Jhesu  Crist,  as  ye  in  bookes  fynde, 
We.  that  his  glorie  laste  and  be  in  mynde  ; 
And  for  the  worschip  of  his  moder  deere, 
Yet  may  I  synge  0  alma  lowde  and  cleere. 

"  This  welle  of  mercy,  Cristes  inoder  swete, 
I  loved  alway,  as  after  my  connynge  ; 
And  whan  that  I  my  lyf  schulde  leete. 


PROLOGS  TO  SIRE  THOPAS.  405 

To  me  sche  cam,  and  bad  ine  for  to  synge  15070 

This  antyra  verraily  in  my  deyinge, 

As  ye  have  herd,  and,  whan  that  I  had  songe, 

Me  thought  sche  layde  a  grayn  under  my  tonge. 

"  Wherfor  I  synge,  and  synge  moot  certeyne 
In  honour  of  that  blisful  mayden  fre, 
Til  fro  my  tonge  taken  is  the  greyne. 
And  after  that  thus  saide  sche  to  me  : 
My  litil  child,  now  wol  I  fecche  the, 
Whan  that  the  grayn  is  fro  thi  tonge  i-take  • 
Be  nought  agast,  I  wil  the  nought  forsake.'  *         15080 

This  holy  monk,  this  abbot  him  mene  I, 
His  tonge  out  caught,  and  took  awey  the  greyn  ; 
And  he  gaf  up  the  gost  ful  softely. 
And  whan  the  abbot  hath  this  wonder  seyn, 
His  salte  teres  striken  doun  as  reyn ; 
And  gruf  he  fel  adoun  unto  the  grounde, 
And  stille  he  lay,  as  he  had  ben  y-bounde. 

The  covent  eek  lay  on  the  pavyment 
Wepyng  and  herying  Cristes  inoder  deere. 
And  after  that  thay  rise,  and  forth  thay  went,       15090 
And  took  away  this  martir  fro  his  beere, 
And  in  a  torn  be  of  marble  stoones  cleere 
Enclosed  thay  this  litil  body  sweete  ; 
Ther  he  is  now,  God  lene  us  for  to  meete ! 

O  yonge  Hughe  of  Lyncoln,  slayn  also 
With  cursed  Jewes  (as  it  is  notable, 
For  it  nys  but  a  litil  while  ago), 
Pray  eek  for  us,  we  synful  folk  unstable, 
That  of  his  mercy  God  so  ruerciable 
On  us  his  grete  mercy  multiplie,  151UO 

For  reverence  of  his  modir  Marie. 

PBOLOGB  TO  SIRE  THOPA8. 

WHAN  sayd  was  this  miracle,  every  man 
As  sober  was,  that  wonder  was  to  se, 
Til  that  oure  host  to  jape  he  bigan, 
And  than  at  erst  lie  loked  upon  me, 
And  sayde  tlnis  :  "  Whatman  art  thou  ?  "  quod  he. 
"  Thou  lokest  as  thou  woldest  fynde  an  hare, 
For  ever  upon  the  ground  I  se  the  stare. 

15095.  Ilug'ht  of  Lyncoln.  The  story  of  Hugh  of  Lincoln,  which  was  m»d« 
the  subject  of  a  variety  of  ballads,  et«.,  is  placed  by  the  historians  in  the  year 
1355.  The  ballads,  in  English  and  French,  were  collected  together  by  M. 
Michael,  and  published  at  Paris  in  a  small  volume  in  1834. 

15104.  he  bigan.  I  have  ventured  to  add  the  personal  pronoun,  which  if 
wanting  in  the  Harl.  and  Lansd-  MSB.,  from  Tyrwhitt. 


406  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Approche  ner,  and  loke  merily. 
Now  ware  you,  sires,  and  let  this  man  have  space. 
He  in  the  wabt  is  schape  as  well  as  I  ;  15111 

This  wer  a  popet  in  an  arm  to  embrace 
For  any  woinman,  smal  and  fair  of  face. 
He  semeth  elvisch  by  his  countenaunce, 
For  unto  no  wight  doth  he  daliannce. 

"  Say  now  som  what,  sins  other  folk  han  said  ; 
Telle  us  a  tale  and  that  of  mirth  anoon." 
"  Host,"  quod  I,  "  ne  beth  nought  evel  apayd, 
For  other  tale  certes  can  I  noon, 

But  of  a  rym  I  lerned  yore  agoon."  15120 

"  Ye,  that  is  good,"  quod  he,  "  now  schul  we  heere 
Som  deynte  thing,  me  thinketh  by  thy  cheere." 

THE  TALK  OF  SIR,  THOPAS. 

LESTENETH,  lordyngs,  in  good  entent, 
And  I  wol  telle  verrayment 

Of  myrthe  and  solas, 
Al  of  a  knyght  was  fair  and  gent 
In  batail  and  in  tornament, 

His  name  was  Sir  Thopas. 
I-bore  he  was  in  fer  contre, 
In  Flaundres,  al  byyonde  the  se,  15130 

At  Poperyng  in  the  place  ; 
His  fader  was  a  man  ful  fre, 
And  lord  he  was  of  that  contre ; 

As  it  was  Goddes  grace. 
Sir  Thopas  wax  a  doughty  swayn  ; 
Whyt  was  his  face  as  payndemayn, 

His  lippes  reed  as  rose  ; 
His  rode  is  lik  scarlet  en  grayn, 
And  I  yow  telle  in  good  certayn 

He  had  a  semly  nose.  15140 

His  heer,  his  berd,  was  lik  safroun, 

The  Tale  of  Sir  Thopas.  The  Introduction  of  this  utory  by  Chaucer  1* 
•learly  intended  es  a  Batiro  on  the  dull  metrical  romances,  then  so  popular, 
but  of  which  Chaucer  fully  saw  the  absurdity.  It  is  in  fact  a  protest  agains! 
the  literary  taste  of  his  day.  It  is  made  up  of  phrases  from  the  common  met- 
rical romances,  if  it  be  not  a  fragment  of  a  romance  dragged  in  by  Chaucer. 
It  h»«  been  stated  that  such  a  romance  existed  under  the  title  of  The  giant 
Olyphant  and  chylde  Thopas ;  but  literary  historians  have  not  yet  been  able 
to'tiud  any  traces  of  such  a  romance.  This  notion  is,  however,  somewhat 
favored  by  the  circumstance  that  all  the  siss.  do  not  end  with  the  same  line, 
the  Lansd.  Ms.  concluding  with  1.  15322.  and  the  Harl.  wanting  the  last  frag- 
ment of  a  line,  as  though  different  scribes  omitted  some,  or  added  as  from  a 
poem  which  they  had  in  memory. 

10131  I'operyng.  Peppering  or  Poppeling  was  a  parish  in  th«  maruhet  of 
Calaia. 


THE  TALE  OF  SIR  THOPA8. 


407 


That  to  his  girdil  raught  adoun; 

His  schoon  of  cordewane  ; 
Of  Brigges  were  his  hosen  broun; 
His  robe  was  of  sicladoun, 

That  coste  many  a  jane, 
lie  couthe  hunt  at  wilde  deer, 
And  ride  on  haukyng  for  ryver 

With  gray  goshauk  on  honde  ; 
Therto  he  was  a  good  archeer.  151 80 

Of  wrastelyng  noon  was  his  peer, 

Tlier  eny  ram  schal  stonde. 
Ful  many  mayde  bright  in  bour 
Thay  mourne  for  him,  par  amour, 

Whan  him  wer  bet  to  slepe  ; 
But  he  was  chast  and  no  lecchour, 
And  sweet  as  is  the  brembre  flour 

That  bereth  the  reede  heepe. 
And  so  it  fel  upon  a  day, 
For  soth  as  I  yow  telle  may,  15160 

Sir  Thopas  wold  out  ryde  ; 
He  vrorth  upon  his  steede  gray, 
And  in  his  hond  a  launcegay, 

A  long  sword  by  his  syde. 
He  priketh  thurgh  a  fair  forest, 
Therin  is  many  a  wilde  best, 

Ye,  bothe  buk  and  hare  ; 
And  as  he  priked  north  and  est, 
I  tel  it  yow,  hym  had  almest 

Bityd  a  sory  care.  15170 

Ther  springen  herbes  greet  and  smale, 
The  licorys  and  the  cetewale. 

And  many  a  clow  gilofre, 
And  notemuge  to  put  in  ale, 
Whethir  it  be  moist  or  stale, 

Or  for  to  lay  in  cofre. 
The  briddes  synge,  it  is  no  nay, 
The  sperhauk  and  the  popinjay, 

15146.  jane.  A  coin  of  Genoa  (Janua),  some  of  whloh,  apparently  of  in- 
toiler  value,  are  called  in  the  English  statutes  galley  halfpence.  The  sight* 
ton,  or  siclatun,  was  a  rich  cloth  or  silk  brought  from  the  East,  and  is  there- 
fore appropriately  mentioned  as  bought  with  Genoese  coin. 

15148.  on  haukyng  for  ryrer.  The  riverside  is  commonly  described  in  th« 
romance*  IB  the  scene  of  hawking.  Thus  in  the  Squier  of  Low  Degree, — 

Homward  thus  schal  ye  ryde 
On  haukyng  by  the  ryvers  syde, 
With  goshauke  and  with  gentil  fawcon 
WiUi  buglehorn  and  merlyon. 

8««  also  befcre,  i.  64C6. 

16152.  eny  ram.    See  before,  line  550,  and  the  Tale  of  Oamelyn,  1.  ITS. 


408  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

That  joye  it  was  to  heere, 

The  throstilcok  inaad  eek  his  lay,  15180 

The  woode  dowve  upon  the  spray 

Sche  song  ful  lowde  and  cleere. 
Sir  Thopas  fel  in  love-longing, 
Whan  that  he  herde  the  briddes  synge, 

And  priked  as  he  were  wood  ; 
His  faire  steede  in  his  prikynge 
So  swette,  that  men  might  him  wrynge, 

His  sydes  were  al  blood. 
Sir  Thopas  eek  so  wery  was 
For  priking  on  the  softe  gras,  J5190 

So  feers  was  his  corrage, 
That  doun  he  layd  him  in  that  place 
To  make  his  steede  som  solace, 

And  gaf  him  good  forage. 
"  O,  seinte  Mary,  benedicite, 
What  eylith  this  love  at  me 

To  bynde  me  so  sore  ? 
Me  dremed  al  this  night,  parde, 
An  elf  queen  schal  my  lemman  be, 

And  slepe  under  my  gore.  15200 

An  elf  queen  wol  I  have  i-wis, 
For  in  this  world  no  womman  is 

Worthy  to  be  my  make 
In  toune  ; 

A  lie  othir  wommen  I  forsake, 
And  to  an  elf  queen  I  me  take 

By  dale  and  eek  by  doune." 
Into  his  sadil  he  clomb  anoon, 
And  priked  over  style  and  stoon 

An  elf  queen  for  to  spye  ;  15210 

Til  he  so  longe  hath  ryden  and  goon. 
That  he  fond  in  a  prive  woon 

The  contre  of  a  fairye, 

So  wylde  ; 


15182.  Sche  song.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  so  for  sche.    Tyrwhltt  g.fe«    fc 
ffhe  reading  of  the  text  is  taken  from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

15214.  so  wylde.  This  and  the  following  lines,  with  the  whole  of  tak 
itanza,  are  given  as  they  stand  in  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.,  which  I  beueve 
to  be  correct.  I  do  not  think,  with  Tyrwhitt,  that  there  is  anything  neces- 
sarily wanting:  he  closes  one  stanza  with  line  15213,  and  gives  as  snothet 
•Uuiza  (the  supplementary  lines  have  been  taken  from  a  late  and  bad  Mi.),— 

Wherin  he  soughte  north  and  soutn, 
And  oft  he  spied  with  his  mouth 

In  many  a  forest  wilde, 
Eor  in  that  contree  n'ae  ther  non, 
That  to  him  dorst  ride  or  gon, 

Neither  wif  ne  child*. 


THE  TALE  OF  SIB  THOPA8.  409 

For  in  that  centre  was  ther  noon, 
That  to  him  dorste  ride  or  gcon. 

Neither  wif  lie  childe. 
Til  ther  cam  a  greet  geaunt, 
His  name  was  sir  Olifaunt, 

A  perilous  man  of  dede  ;  15220 

He  swar,  "  Child,  by  Termagaunt, 
For  if  thou  prike  out  of  myn  haunt, 

Anoon  I  slee  thy  stede, 

With  mace. 

Heer  is  the  queen  of  fayerie, 
With  harp,  and  lute,  and  symphonye, 

Dwellyng  in  this  place." 
The  child  sayd  "  Al  so  mote  I  the, 
To  morwe  wil  I  meete  with  the, 

Whan  I  have  myn  armure.  15230 

"And  yit  I  hope,  par  ma  fay, 
That  thou  schalt  with  this  launcegay 

Abyen  it  ful  sore  ; 

Thy  mawe 

Schal  I  persyn,  if  that  I  may, 
Er  it  be  fully  prime  of  day, 

For  heer  schalt  thou  be  slawe." 
Sir  Thopas  drough  on  bak  ful  fast ; 
This  geaunt  at  him  stoones  cast 
.  Out  of  a  fell  staf  slynge  ;  1524<J 

But  faire  eschapeth  child  Thopas, 
And  al  it  was  thurgh  Goddis  gras, 

And  thurgh  his  faire  berynge. 
Yet  lesteneth,  lordynges,  to  my  tale, 
Merier  than  the  nightyngale 

I  wol  vow  roune, 
How  sir  Thopas  with  sides  smale, 
Prikynge  over  hul  and  dale, 

Is  come  ageyn  to  toune. 

His  mery  men  comaunded  he,  152-50 

To  make  him  bothe  game  and  gle, 

For  needes  most  he  fight 

16i:9.  sir  OHfaunt.    OHfaunt  means  an  elephant,  and  is  not  an  in»ppro 
f,  late  name  for  a  pagan  giant. 

15221.  Tennagaunt.    Termagant  or  Tervagant  is  the  name  of  one  of  the 
favorite  gods  of  the  Saracens  and  pagans,  in  the  popular  literature  of  the 
middle  ages.    From  the  way  in  which  he  was  made  to  blustor  and  rant,  arose 
cur  modern  use  of  the  word  termagant. 

15222.  For.    The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  Hut,  which  is  perhaps  belter. 

15223.  thy  stede.    This  reading  is  adopted  from  the  l.ansd.  Ms.,  as  being 
evidently  the  correct  one.    The  Ilarl.  Ms.  reads  as  one  line,  Anoon  1  slee  tin 
with  mace. 

16243.  faire.    I  have  added  this  word  from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 


410  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


With  a  geaunt  with  heedes  thre, 
For  paramours  and  jolite 

Of  oon  that  schon  f  ul  bright. 
"  Do  come,"  he  sayde,  "  my  mynstrales 
And  gestours  for  to  telle  tales 

Anoon  in  myn  armynge, 
Of  romaunces  that  ben  reales, 
Of  popes  and  of  cardinales,  15200 

And  eek  of  love-likyuge." 
Tbay  fet  him  first  the  swete  wyn, 
And  made  him  eek  in  a  maselyn 

A  real  spicerye, 

15257.  gestours  far  to  telle  tales.  "  The  proper  business  of  a  gestour  was  to 
recite  tales,  or  aestes  ;  which  was  only  one  of  the  branches  of  the  minstrel'? 
profession.  Minstrels  and  gestours  are  mentioned  together  in  the  following 
lines,  from  William  of  Nassmgton's  translation  of  a  religious  treatise  by  John 
of  Waldby.  Ms.  Keg.  17  C.  viii.  p.  2. 

I  warne  you  furst  at  the  beg-ynnlnge, 

That  I  will  make  no  vain  carpinge 

Of  dedes  of  arrays  ne  of  amours, 

As  dus  mynstrelles  and  jestours, 

That  makys  carpinge  in  many  a  place 

Of  Octoviane  and  fsembrase, 

And  of  many  other  jestes, 

And  namely  whan  they  come  to  festea  ; 

Ne  of  the  life  of  Bevys  of  Hampton, 

That  was  a  knight  of  gret  renoun, 

Ne  of  Sir  Oye  of  Warwyke, 

Al  if  it  might  sum  men  lyke— 

I  cite  these  lines  to  shew  the  species  of  tales  related  by  the  ancient  gestourf , 
«ad  how  much  they  differed  from  what  we  now  call  jestes." — Tyrwhitt. 

15259.  romaunces. .  .reales.  "  So  in  the  rom.  of  Ywain  and  Gawain.  Ml. 
(Jolt.  Galb.  B.  ix. 

He  fund  a  knight  under  a  tre  ; 

Upon  a  cloth  of  gold  he  lay  ; 

Byfor  him  sat  a  ful  fayr  may  : 

A  lady  sat  with  tham  in  fere  ; 

The  maiden  red;  that  thai  might  here, 

A  real  romance  in  that  place. — 

The  original  of  this  title,  which  is  an  uncommon  one,  I  take  to  be  this.  When 
tha  French  romances  found  their  way  into  Italy  (not  long  before  the  year 
1900,  Crescimb.  t.  i.  p.  336),  some  Italian  undertook  to  collect  together  all  thews 
relating  to  Charlemagne  and  his  family,  and  to  form  them  into  a  regular  bod.T 
of  history.  The  six  first  books  of  this  work  come  down  to  the  death  of  Pepin 
They  begin  thus  :  Qui  se  comenza  la  hysteria  el  Real  ili  Franza  comenzando 
a  Constantino  imperatore  secondo  molte  lezende  die  io  ho  attrovate  e  racolte 
iiisieme.  Edit.  Mulinte,  1491,  fol.  It  was  reprinted  in  1537  under  this  title, 
1  /  reali  di  Franza,  nel  quale  si  contiene  la  generazione  di  tutti  i  Ke,  Duchi, 
Principi  e  Baroni  di  Franza,  e  delli  Paladini,  colle  Battaglie  da  lore  fatto, 
etc."  Qtuidrio,  t.  vi.  p.  530.  Salviati  had  seen  a  MS.  of  this  work  written 
about  1350  (Crescimb.  t.  i.  p.  330),  and  I  do  not  believe  that  any  mention  of  i 
real,  or  royal,  romance  is  to  be  found,  in  French  or  English,  prior  to  that 
date."—  Tyrwhitt. 

15261.  love-llhynge.     The  Lansd.   Ms.  reads,  with  Tyrwhitt,  love-longynj . 

1W63.    Tyrwhitt  reads  this  and  the  nert  line,— 
And  mede  eke  in  a  maselin, 

And  real  spicerio. 

Bat  1  pror»r  much  Ihe  readitte  of  Uarl.  Ms.,  as  mead  WBK  not  •  rery  ronuu» 
Uc  liqaor  to  be  ierved  to  •  knight  advunturoi^. 


THE  TALE  OF  SIB  THOPAS.  411 

Of  gyngebred  that  was  so  fyn, 
And  lieorys,  and  eek  comyn, 

With  sugre  that  is  trye. 
He  dode  next  his  white  leere 
Of  cloth  of  lake  whyt  and  cleere 

A  brech  and  eek  a  schert ; 
And  next  his  schert  an  aketoun, 
And  over  that  an  haberjoun, 

For  persying  of  his  hert ;  1.5176 

And  over  that  a  fyn  hauberk, 
Was  al  i-wrought  of  Jewes  werk, 

Ful  strong  it  was  of  plate  ; 
And  over  that  his  cote-arinoar, 
As  whyt  as  is  a  lily  flour, 

In  which  he  wold  debate. 
His  scheld  was  al  of  gold  so  red, 
And  therinne  was  a  bores  heed, 

A  charbocle  by  his  syde  ; 

And  ther  he  swor  on  ale  and  bred  152&J 

How  that  the  geaunt  schal  be  deed, 

Bytyde  what  betyde. 
His  janibeux  were  of  quirboily, 
His  swerdes  schethe  of  yvory, 

His  helm  of  latoun  bright. 
His  sadel  was  of  rowel  boon. 
His  bridel  as  the  sonne  schon, 

Or  as  the  ruoone  light. 
His  spere  was  of  fine  cipres, 
That  bodeth  werre,  and  no  thing  pees,  15290 

The  heed  ful  scharp  i-grounde. 
His  steede  was  al  dappul  gray, 
It  goth  an  ainbel  in  the  way 

Ful  softely  and  rounde 

In  londe. 

Lo,  lordes,  heer  is  a  fyt ; 
If  ye  wil  eny  more  of  it, 

To  telle  it  wol  I  fonde. 

16272-  Jewes  werk.  I  have  not  met  with  any  passage  in  medieval  writort 
explaining  the  nature  of  this  Jewes  werk,  but  I  am  not  quite  prepared  tc 
think  with  Tyrwhitt  that  a  Jew  means  here  a  magician. 

15286.  rowel  boon.    This  material,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  mentioned  else- 
where as  that  of  which  rich  saddles  were  made  ;  aa  in  the  early  ballad  of 
Thomas  and  the  Elf  queen,  speaking  of  the  latter,— 
Hir  sadillo  wus  of  rew/lle  bone, 

Semely  was  that  sight  to  Be, 
Stifly  sette  with  precious  stone, 

Compaste  about«  with  erapote. 

15289.  fin*.    I  have  added  this  word  from  the  Lanf.d.  Ms. 
16296.  a  fyt.     This  was  a  common  EnglUh  trrui  for  the  different  p*rt«  • 
dlTl*Jou*  o/ a  metrical  romance. 


412  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

[FIT  ii.] 

Now  hold  your  ruouth  for  charite, 
Bothe  knight  and  lady  fre,  15300 

And  herkneth  to  my  spelle ; 
Of  batail  and  of  chivalry, 
Of  ladys  love  and  drewery, 

Anoon  I  wol  yow  telle. 
Men  speken  of  romauns  of  pris, 
Of  Horn  child,  and  of  Ypotis, 

Of  Bevys,  and  sir  Gy, 
Of  sir  Libeaux,  and  Pleyndamour, 
But  sir  Thopas  bereth  the  flour 

Of  real  chivalry.  15810 

His  goode  steede  he  bistrood, 
And  forth  upon  his  way  he  glood, 

As  spark  out  of  the  bronde  ; 
Upon  his  crest  he  bar  a  tour, 
And  therin  stiked  a  lily  flour, 

God  schilde  his  corps  fro  schonde. 
And  for  he  was  a  knyght  auntrous, 
He  nolde  slepen  in  noon  hous, 

But  liggen  in  his  hood. 

His  brighte  helm  was  his  wonger,  15380 

And  by  him  baytith  his  destrer 

Of  herbes  fyne  and  goode. 
Him  self  drank  water  of  the  welle, 
As  dede  the  knight  sir  Percivelle 

So  worthy  under  wede, 
[Til  on  a  day] 

16305.  romauns  of  pris.  Nearly  all  the  romances  here  enumerated  are  ex- 
tent. The  romance  of  Horn  is  preserved  in  Anglo-Norman  and  in  English  ,• 
the  latter  version  is  printed  in  Ritson's  Metrical  Romances.  Ypotis  is  found 
in  a  Cottonian  Ms.  (Calig.  A.  II.)  and  in  the  Vernon  Ms.  at  Oxford.  Bcvis  of 
Hampton  and  Guy  of  Warwick  are  too  well  known  to  need  any  explanation. 
Sir  hibeaux,  or  Libeaus  Desconus  (the  fair  unknown),  is  printed  also  in  Kit- 
eon's  Metrical  Romances. 

15324.  sir  Percivelle.    I  have  adopted  Tyrwhitt's  reading  instead  of  that  of 
the  Ilarl.  Ma.,  of  Pertinelle,  because  I  remember  no  romance  or  tAle  of  a 
knight  of  Pertinelle,  and  the  romance  of  Percival  is  well  known.    Tyrwhiu 
observes,  "  The  romance  of  Perceval  le  Galois,  or  dc  Galis,  was  composed  in 
octosyllable  French  verse  by  Chrestien  de  Troves,  one  of  the  oldest  and  best 
French  romancers,  before  the  year  1191.    Fauchet,  1.  ii.  c.  x.    It  consisted  of 
above  sixty  thousand  verses  (Bibl.  des  Rom.  t.  ii.  p.  250),  so  that  it  would  be 
some  trouble  to  find  the  fact  which  is,  probably,  here  alluded  to.    The  re- 
mance,  under  the  same  title,  in  French  prose,  printed  at  Paris,  ir30,  fol.  can 
only  be  an  iibridgemeut,  I  suppose,  of  the  original  poem." 

15325.  .So  worthy  under  wede.    "This  phrase  occurs  repeatedly  In  th« 
romance  of  Emare. 

fol.  70.  b.    Than  sayde  that  worthy  unthcr  weae. 
74.  b.    The  childo  was  worthy  unther  wede, 

And  sate  upon  a  nobyl  stede. 
Bee  also  fol.  71,  b.  73,  n."—T;/rwhiit. 

V53i!6.  Til  on  a  day.    These  words  are  not  iu  the  Harl.  M». 


PROLOGE  TO  MELI.BEUS.  413 


PROLOGS  TO   MELIBEUS. 

"  No  mor  of  this,  for  Goddes  dignite  !  " 

'^.u  }d  our  hoste,  "  for  thou  makest  me 

Bo  vrt:y  of  thy  verrey  lewednesse, 

That  al  so  wisly  God  my  soule  blesse,  1&330 

Myn  eeres  aken  for  thy  drasty  speche. 

Now  such  a  rym  the  devel  I  byteche  ! 

This  may  wel  be  rym  dogerel,"  quoth  he. 

"  Why  so,"  quod  I,  "  why  wilt  thou  lette  me 

More  of  iny  tale  than  another  man, 

Syn  that  it  is  the  beste  rym  that  I  can  ?  " 

"  By  God  !  "  quod  he,  "  for  pleinly  at  o  word, 

Thy  drasty  rymyng  is  not  worth  a  tord  ; 

Thou  dost  nought  elles  but  despendist  tyme. 

Sir,  at  o  word,  thou  schalt  no  lenger  ryme.  15340 

Let  se  wher  thou  canst  tellen  ought  in  gest, 

Or  telle  in  prose  sorn  what  atte  lest, 

In  which  ther  be  BO  in  merthe  or  doctrine." 

"  Gladly,"  quod  I,  "  by  Goddes  swete  pyne, 

I  wol  yow  telle  a  litel  thing  in  prose, 

That  oughte  like  yow,  as  I  suppose. 

Or  elles  certes  ye  be  to  daungerous. 

It  is  a  moral  tale  vertuous, 

Al  be  it  told  sorn  tyme  in  sondry  wise 

Of  sondry  folk,  as  I  schal  yow  devyse.  15560 

As  thus,  ye  woot  that  every  evaungelist, 

That  ^elleth  us  the  peyrie  of  Jhesu  Crist, 

Ne  saith  not  alle  thing  as  his  felawes  doth  ; 

But  natheles  here  sentence  is  al  soth, 

A  ad  alle  accorden  as  in  here  sentence, 

Al  be  ther  in  her  tellyng  difference. 

I  "or  some  of  hem  sayn  more,  and  some  lesse, 

Whan  thay  his  pitous  passioun  expresse  ; 

I  rnene  of  Mark  and  Mathew,  Luk  and  Johan, 

But  dontcles  her  sentence  is  al  oon.  15360 

Therfor,  lordynges  alle,  I  yow  biseche, 

If  yow  think  that  I  varye  as  in  my  speche, 

As  thus,  though  that  I  telle  som  what  mone 

Of  proverbes,  than  1  have  herd  bifore 

Comprehended  in  this  litel  tretys  here, 

To  enforcen  with  theffect  of  my  matiere, 

And  though  I  not  the  same  wordes  say 

As  ye  have  herd,  yit  to  yow  alle  I  pray, 

l.  1  fun'*.     TLe  Laiisd.  MB   and  TyrwhiU  road  wi. 


414  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Blameth  me  nought,  for,  in  my  sentence, 

Schul  ye  no  \vher  fynde  difference  15370 

For  the  sentence  of  this  tretys  lite, 

After  the  which  this  litil  tale  I  write. 

And  therfor  herkeneth  what  I  schal  say, 

And  let  me  tellen  al  my  tale,  I  pray." 

THE   TALK   OP   MELIBEUS. 

A  YONG  man  called  Melibeus,  mighty  and  riche,  by  gat 
upon  his  wif,  that  called  was  Prudens,  a  doughter  which 
that  called  was  Sophie.1  Upon  a  day  byfel,  that  for  his 
desport  he  is  went  into  the  feldes  him  to  play.  His  wif  and 
his  doughter  eek  hath  he  laft  within  his  hous,  of  which  the 
dores  were  fast  i-schitte.  Thre 2  of  his  olde  foos  han  it  espyed, 
and  setten  laddres  to  the  walles  of  his  hous,  and  by  the 
wyndowes  ben  entred,  and  betyn  his  wyf,  and  woundid  his 
doughter  with  fyve  mortal  woundes,  in  fyve  sondry  places, 
that  is  to  sayn,  in  here  feet,  in  here  hondes,  in  here  eeres, 
in  here  nose,  and  in  here  mouth  ;  and  lafte  her  for  deed, 
and  went  away. 

Whan  Melibeus  retourned  was  into  his  hous,  and  seigh 
al  this  meschief,  he,  lik  a  man  inad,  rendyng  his  clothes, 
gan  wepe  and  crie.  Prudens  his  wyf,  as  ferforth  as  sche 
dorste,  bysought  him  of  his  wepyng  to  stynte.  But  not 
forthi  he  gan  to  crie  ever  lenger  the  more. 

This  noble  wyf  Prudence  remembred  hire  upon  the 
sentens  of  Ovide,3  in  his  book  that  cleped  is  the  Remedy  of 
Love,  wher  as  he  seith  :  He  is  a  fool  that  distourbeth  the 
moder  to  wepe  in  the  deth  of  hir  childe,  til  sche  have  i-wept 
liir  fille,  as  for  a  certeyn  tyme  ;  and  than  schal  man  doon 
his  diligence  as  with  amyable  wordes  hire  to  recomforte 
ami  praye  hire  of  hire  wepyng  to  stinte.  For  which  resoun 
this  noble  wif  Prudens  suffred  hir  housbonde  for  to  wepe 
and  crie,  as  for  a  certeyn  space  ;  and  whan  sche  seigh  hir 
tyme,  sche  sayd  him  in  this  wise:  "  Alias  1  my  lord." 

The  Tale  cj  Me.libei*.  <T*1-'s  Is  a  literal  translation  from  a  French  story, 
?t  which  there  are  two  oo,  tie  British  Museum,  Ms.  Keg.  19,  C.  vii.  and 

M*.  Keg.  19,  (J.  xi.,  both  ot  i—  tcenih  century.  The  former,  as  apparently 
tho  best  copy,  is  quoted  in  the  ium.>\ving  notes.  (Since  these  notes  were  firs' 
written,  the  "French  text  of  Meilbeus  has  been  printed  in  It  Menayier  de  Paris 
published  by  the  Societe  des  Bibliophiles  Francois.) 

1  Siiphle.    The  name  of  the  daughter  is  omitted  in  both  the  French  MSS. 

2  Tkre.    The  I.ausd.  Ms.  and  T-yrwhitt  read  foure.    The  reeding  of  both 
the  French  MSS.,  however,  Is  trois,  which  is  in  all  probability  correct.     Thre* 
w«*  a  fa%'orite  number  in  tho  medieval  tales  and  apologues. 

'  '4e  sciiten»  of  Ouidc.    The  allusion  is  to  the  Kerned.  Am.  1.  125,— 

Quis  matrem,  nisi  matris  inops,  in  funere  natl 
Flere  vcte>     &c. 


THE  TAL-E  OF  MEL1BEU8.  41b 


quod  sche,  "  why  make  ye  youre  self  for  to  be  lik  a  fool  ? 
Forsothe  it  apperteyneth  not  to  a  wys  man,  to  make  such 
sorwe.  Youve  doughter,  with  the  grace  of  God,  schal 
warischt  be  arid  eschape.  Arid  al  were  it  so  that  sche  right 
now  wore  deed,  ye  ne  oughte  nought  as  for  hir  deth  youre 
silf  destroye.  Senec  saith,  The  wise  man  schal  not  take  to 
gret  discomfort  for  the  deth  of  his  children,  but  certes  he 
sehulde  suffren  it  in  pacience,  as  wel  as  he  abyde-tli  the 
deth  of  his  owne  persone." 

This  Melibeus  answerde  anooi?  and  sayde  :  "What 
man,"  quod  he,  "  schuld  of  his  wepjuge  stynte,  that  hath 
so  gret  a  cause  for  to  wepe  ?  Jhesu  Crist,  oure  Lord,  him 
self  wepte  for  the  deth  of  Lazarus  his  frend."  Prudens 
answerde  :  "  Certes,  wel  I  Avot,  attemperel  wepyng  is  no 
thing  defended  to  him  that  sorwful  is,  amonges  folk  in 
sorwe,  but  it  is  rather  graunted  him  to  wepe.  The  apostel 
Poule  unto  the  Romayns  writeth,  A  man  schal  rejoyce  with 
hem  that  maken  joye,  and  wepe  with  such  folk  as  wepen. 
But  though  attemperel  wepyng  be  graunted,  outrageous 
wepynge  certes  is  defended.  Mesure  of  wepynge  schulc!  be 
conserved,4  after  the  lore  of  Crist  that  techeth  us  Senev-  ; 
Whan  that  thi  frend  is  deed,  quod  he,  let  nought  thin  yet 
to  moyste  ben  of  teres,  ne  to  rnoche  drye  ;  although  the 
teeres  come  to  thine  eyghen,5  let  hem  not  falle.  And  whan 
thou  hast  for-gon  thy  frend,  do  diligence  to  gete  another 
frende  ;  and  this  is  more  wisedom  than  to  wepe  for  thy 
frend,  which  that  thou  hast  lorn,  for  theriri  is  no  boote. 
And  therfore  if  ye  governe  vow  by  sapience,  put  away 
sorwe  out  of  youre  hert.  Ilemembreth  vow  that  Jhesus 
Sirac  saith,  A  man  that  is  joyous  and  glad  in  herte,  it  him 
conserveth  florischinge  in  his  age  ;  but  sothly  sorweful 
herte  maketh  his  boones  drye.  He  saith  eek  thus,  that 
sorwe  in  herte  sleth  ful  many  a  man.  Salomon  saith,  that 
right  as  motthes  in  schepes  flees  annoyeth  the  clothes,  and 
the  smale  wormes  to  the  tre,  right  so  annoyeth  sorwe  to 
the  herte.  Wherfore  us  oughte  as  wel  in  the  deth  of  oure 
children,  as  in  the  losse  of  our  goodes  temporales,  have  pa- 
cience. Remembreth  yow  upon  the  pacient  Job,  whan  he 
hadde  lost  his  children  and  his  temporal  substance,  and  in 
his  body  endured  and  receyved  ful  many  a  grevous  tribu- 
lacioun,  yit  sayde  he  thus  :  Oure  Lord  it  sent  unto  me,  oure 

«  conserved.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt  read  considered;  but  the  read- 
ing of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  representing  the  word  ijanler,  is  correct.  The  original 
it,  "  K  pource  on  doit  paine  mettre  et  garder  la  mesure,  que  Senesques  dist." 

5  come  to  thine  eyghen.  I  have  kept  the  reading  of  Tyrwhitt,  as  most  ac 
cordunt  with  the  original.  "  Car  j;'i  aoit  ce  quo  la  lerim;  viengne  a  1'eueil,  «11« 
n«  doit  point  yssir  dohorg."  The  llarl.  MB.  has  come  out  oft/tine  eyghe^;  UM 
LRimd.  Ms.  cumen  of. 


416  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Lord  it  hath  raft  fro  me  ;  right  so  as  cure  Lord  wil,  righi 
BO  be  it  doon  ;  i-blessed  be  the  name  of  oure  Lord  !  "  To 
these  forsayde  thinges  answerith  Melibeus  unto  his  wif 
Prudens  :  "  Alle  tliine  wordes  ben  soth,"  quod  he,  "  and 
therto  profytable,  but  sothly  uiyn  herte  is  so  troubled  with 
this  sorwe,  that  I  noot  what  to  dooiie."  "  Let  calle,"  quod 
Prudence,  "thy  trewe  frendes  alle,  and  thi  linage,  whiche 
that  ben  trewe  and  wise  ;  telleth  hem  youre  grevauiicc, 
andherkon  what  thay  say  in  counseilynge,  and  yowgoverno 
after  here  sentence.  Salamon  saith,  werke  al  thi  thing  by 
counseil,  and  the  thar  never  rewe." 

Than,  by  the  counseil  of  his  wyf  Prudens,  this  Melibeus 
le*  calle  a  gret  congregacioun  of  peple,  as  surgiens,  pui- 
sid  ens,  olde,  and  yonge,0  and  some  of  his  olde  enemyes  re- 
counsiled  (as  by  her  semblaunt)  to  his  love  and  to  his  grace  ; 
and  therwithal  ther  come  some  of  his  neighebours,  that 
deden  him  reverence  more  for  drede  than  for  love,  as  hap- 
peth  ofte.  Ther  comen  also  ful  many  subtil  flaterers,  and 
wise  advoketes  lerned  in  the  lawe.  And  whan  these  folk 
togidere  assemblid  were,  this  Melibeus  in  sorwful  wyse 
schewed  hem  his  caas.  and  by  the  maner  of  his  speche,  it 
seined  that  in  herte  he  bar  a  cruel  ire,  redy  to  do  vengeance 
upon  his  foos,  and  sodeynly  desirede  that  the  werreschulde 
bygynne,  but  natheles  yit  axed  he  her  counseil  in  this 
matier.  A  sirurgien,  by  licens  and  assent  of  suche  as  were 
wyse,  up  ros,  and  to  Melibeus  sayde,  as  ye  may  hiere. 

"  Sire,"  quod  he,  "  as  to  us  sirurgiens  appertieneth,  that 
we  do  to  every  wight  the  beste  that  we  can,  wher  as  wo  ben 
withholde,  and  to  oure  pacient  that  we  do  no  damage ; 
wherfore  it  happeth  many  tyme  and  ofte,  that  whan  twey* 
han  everich  wounded  other,  oo  same  surgien  heleth  hem 
bothe,  where  unto  oure  art  it  is  not  perteyned  to  norische 
werre,  ne  parties  to  supporte.  But  certes,  as  to  warisching 
of  youre  doughter,  al  be  it  so  that  sche  perilously  be 
woundid,  we  schullen  do  so  tentyf  besynes  fro  day  to  night, 
that  with  the  grace  of  God  sche  schal  be  hool  and  sound, 
als  soone  as  it  is  possible."  Almost  right  in  the  same  wise 
the  phisiciens  answerden,  save  that  thay  sayden  a  fewe 
wordes  more ;  that  ryght  as  maladies  ben  cured  by  hei 
contraries,  right  so  schal  men  warissch  werre  by  venge- 
aunce.7  His  neygheboures  ful  of  envy,  his  feyned  freeiides 
that  secede  recounsiled,  and  his  flatereres,maden  semblaunt 

6  olde,  yonge.  This  is  literal  from  the  French  original.  Tyrwhitt  reads 
tide  folk  and  yonge. 

"•  waritsch  werre  by  vengeauncc.  So  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mas.  read  cor- 
rectly. Tyrwhitt  omits  the  words  by  venyeaunct.  The  original  is,  "  »u*»i 
doii  on  guerir  guerre  par  vsi-jreuoe." 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEU8.  417 


of  weuyng,  and  appaired  and  aggregged  moche  of  this 
matiere,  in  preisyng  gretly  Melibe  of  might,  of  power,  of 
riches,  and  of  frendes,  despisinge  the  power  of  his  adver- 
saries ;  and  sayden  outerly,  that  he  anoon  schulde  wreke 
him  on  his  adversaries  be  bygynnynge  of  werre. 

Up  roos  thanno  an  advocate  that  was  wys,  by  levo  and 
by  counseil  of  othere  that  were  wise,  and  sayde:  "  Lord- 
ynges,  the  needes  forwhiche  we  ben  assein blit  in  this  place, 
is  ful  hevy  thing,  and  an  heigh  matier,  bycause  of  th< 
wrong  and  of  the  wikkednes  that  hath  ben  doon,  and  oek 
by  resoun  of  the  grete  damages  that  in  tyrne  comyng  I  en 
possible  to  falle  for  the  same,  and  eek  bycause  of  the  greto 
richesse  and  power  of  the  partes  bothe,  for  the  whiche  re- 
souns,  it  were  a  ful  gvet  peril  to  erren  in  these  materes. 
Wherfore,  Melibeus,  this  is  oure  sentence ;  we  counseile 
yow,  aboven  alle  thinges,  that  right  anoon  thou  do  dili- 
gence in  kepyng  of  thy  body  in  such  a  wyse  that  thou  ne 
warite  noon  espye  ne  wacche  thy  body  for  to  save.  And 
after  that,  we  counseile  that  in  thin  hous  thou  sette  suf- 
iisauiit  garnisoun,  so  that  thay  may  as  wel  thy  body  as 
thin  hous  defende.  But  certes  for  to  rnoeve  werre,  ne 
sodeynly  for  to  doo  vengeance,  we  may  not  deme  in  so  litel 
tyme  that  it  were  profitable.  Wherfore  we  axen  leysir  and 
a  space  to  have  deliberacioun 8  in  this  caas  to  deiiien ; 
for  the  coimme  proverbe  saith  this  ;  He  that  soone  demeth, 
soone  schal  repente.  And  eek  men  sayn,  that  thilke  jugeis 
wys,  that  soone  understondeth  a  matier,  and  juggeth  by 
leysir.  For  al  be  it  so,  that  alle  taryinge  is  anoyf ul,  algates 
it  is  no  reproef  in  gevynge  of  juggement,  rie  of  vengaunce 
takyng,  whan  it  is  suffisaunt  and  resonable.  And  that 
echewed  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  by  ensample,  for  whan  that 
the  womman  that  was  i-take  in  advoutrie,  was  brought  in 
in  his  presence  to  knowen  what  schulde  be  doon  of  lu'r 
persone,  al  be  it  that  he  wist  him  self  what  that  he  wolde 
answere,  yit  wolde  he  riot  answere  sodeynly,  but  he  wolde 
have  deliberacioun,  and  in  the  ground  hem  wrot  twy-.-s. 
Arid  by  these  causes  we  axe  deliberacioun  ;  and  we  schul 
thanne  by  the  grace  of  God  counseile  the  thing  that  schal 
be  profytable."  Upstarten  thenne  the  yonge  folkes  aiioon 
at  oones,  and  the  moste  parte  of  that  couipanye  hail 
bkorned  these  olde  wise  men,  and  bygonne  to  make  noyse 
and  sayden  :  "  Right  so  as  whil  that  iren  is  hoot  men 
Beholden  sinyte,  right  so  schulde  men  wreke  here  wronges, 

•  Space  to  have  aeliberacioun.  I  have  added  the  three  laat  words  from  th« 
Lain*!.  Ms.,  as  they  are  authorized  by  the  French  original.  They  ara  o  nutted 
In  the  liarl .  Ma. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES, 


whil  that  thay  ben  freische  and  newe ; "  and  with  loud 
vois  thay  cryde,  "  Werre,  werre." 

Uproos  tho  oon  of  these  olde  wise,  and  with  his  hond 
make  countenaunce  that  menschulde  holde  heui  stille,  and 
given  him  audience.  "  Lordyngs,"  quod  he,  "ther  is  ful 
many  a  man  that  crieth  werre,  werre,  that  wot  ful  litel  what 
werre  amouiiteth.  Werre  at  his  bygynnyng  hath  so  greet  au 
entre  and  so  large,  that  every  wight  may  eritre  whan  him 
liketh,  arid  lightly  fynde  werre  ;  but  certes  what  ende  schal 
falle  therof,  it  is  not  lightly  to  knowe.  For  sothly  whan 
that  werre  is  oones  bygonne,  ther  is  ful  many  a  child  unbore 
of  his  mooder  that  schal  sterve  yong,  by  cause  of  thilke 
werre.  or  elles  lyve  in  sorwe  and  deye  in  wrecchidnes ;  and 
therfore  er  that  eny  werre  be  bygonne,  men  nioste  have 
gret  counseil  and  gret  deliberacioun."  And  whan  this  olde 
man  wende  to  enforce  his  tale  by  resouns,  wel  neigh  alle 
at  oones  bygonne  thay  to  rise,  for  to  breke  his  tale,  and 
beden  him  ful  ofte  his  wordes  to  abrigge.  For  sothly  he 
that  precheth  to  hem  that  liste  not  to  heere  his  wordes,  his 
sernioun  hem  anoyeth.  For  Jhesus  Sirac  saith,  thatmusik 
in  wepyng 9  is  a  noyous  thing.  This  is  to  say,  as  moche 
avayleth  to  speke  to-fore  folk  to  whiche  his  speche  an- 
noyeth,  as  it  is  to  synge  byfore  hem  whiche  that  wepith. 
And  whan  this  wise  man  saugh  him  wanted  audience,  al 
schame-fast  he  sette  him  doun  agayn.  For  Salamon  saith, 
Ther  as  thou  may  have  noon  audience,  enforce  the  not  to 
spekft.  "I  se  wel,"  quod  this  wise  man,  "that  the  comune 
proverbe  is  soth,  that  good  counseil  wantith,  whan  it  is 
mostneede."  Yit  hadde  this  Melibeus  in  his  counseil  many 
folk,  that  prively  in  his  eere  counseled  him  certein  thinges, 
Mid  counseled  him  the  coutrarie  in  general  audience. 

Whan  Melibeus  hadde  herd  that  the  grettest  party  of 
his  counseil  were  accorded  that  he  schulde  make  werre, 
anoon  he  consented  to  here  counseilyng,  and  fully  affermed 
here  sentence.  Thanne  dame  Prudence,  whan  that  sche 
Baugh  that  hir  housbonde  schop  him  to  wreke  him  of  his 
"uemyes,  and  to  gynne  werre,  sche  in  ful  humble  wise, 
whan  sche  saugh  hire  tyme,  sayde  him  these  wordes  :  "  My 
lord,"  quod  sche,  "  I  yow  biseche  10  as  hertily  as  1  dar  and 
kan,  ne  haste  yow  nought  to  faste,  and  for  alle  guerdouus 
as  geve  me  audience.  For  Peres  Alfons  u  saith,  Who  that 

»  jrt^ik  in  irrpyii'j.  Tin'  Hurl  Ms.  read*  wejiyng  in  musik ;  but  the  other 
reading,  taken  from  the  Lnnr"l.  Ms.,  is  authorized  not  only  Kv  the  French 
tHginal,  but  it  is  required  by  the  context. 

w  /  yow  liseche,  "Sire,  dist  elle,  Je  vous  prie  que  vc  **  ne  vou»  hastes, 
a  flue  VOUB  pour  tous  dons  me  donnez  espace." 

»'  Peres  Atfons.  Peter  Alfonsua,  or  Alfonsi,  waj  a  converted  Spanish 
f  iw,  who  flourished  in  the  tvrelfth  century,  and  U  well  known  for  hl«  ditci- 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  419 


doth  to  the  outher  good  or  harm,  haste  the  nought  to 
quyten  him,  for  in  this  wise  thy  freend  wil  abyde,  and  thin 
enemy  schal  the  lenger  lyve  in  drede.  Theproverbe  saith., 
He  hastith  wel  that  wisly  can  abyde  ;  and  in  wikked  haste 
is  no  profyt."  This  Melibeus  answerde  unto  his  wyf  Pru 
dens  ;  "  I  purpose  not,"  quod  he,  "  to  worke  by  thy  coun- 
sell,  for  many  causes  and  resouns ;  for  certes  every  wight 
wolde  holde  me  thanne  a  fool ;  this  is  to  sayn,  if  I  for  thy 
counsoil  wolde  chaunge  thinges  that  affermed  ben  by  so 
many  wise.  Secoundly,  I  say  that  alle  wommen  be  wikked, 
and  noon  good  of  hem  alle.  For  of  a  thousand  men,  saith 
Salamon,  I  fond  oon  good  man  ;  but  certes  of  alle  wommen 
good  womman  fond  I  never  oon.  And  also  certes,  if  I 
governede  me  by  thy  counseil,  it  schulde  seme  that  Ihadde 
given  to  the  over  me  the  maistry ;  and  God  forbeede  er  it 
so  were.  ^  For  Jhesus  Sirac  saith,  that  if  a  wif  have  mais- 
trie,  sche  is  contrarious  to  hir  housbond.  And  Salamon 
saith,  Never  in  thy  lif  to  thy  wyf,  ne  to  thy  child,  ne  to  thy 
freend,  ne  geve  no  power  over  thi  self  ;  for  better  it  were 
that  thy  children  axen  of  thy  persone  thinges  that  ben 
needful  to  hem,  than  thou  se  thi  self  in  the  honds  of  thy 
children.  And  also,  if  I  wolde  werke  by  the  counselynge, 
certes  it  most  some  tyme  be  secre,  til  it  were  tyme  that  it 
ruoste  be  knowe  ;  and  this  ne  may  not  be."  12 

Whan  dame  Prudence,  ful  debonerly  and  with  gret 
pacience,  hadde  herd  al  that  hir  housboride  liked  for  to 
seye,  thanne  axed  sche  of  him  licence  for  to  speke,  and  sayde 
in  this  wise  ;  "  My  lord,"  quod  sche,  "  as  to  youre  firste  re- 
soun,  certes  it  may  lightly  be  answered  ;  for  I  say  it  is  no 
foly  to  chaunge  counsel  whan  the  thing  is  chaungid,  or 
ellos  whan  the  thing  semeth  otherwise  than  it  was  biforn. 
And  moreover  I  say,  though  that  ye  han  sworn  and  i-hight 
to  parforme  youre  emprise,  and  natheles,  ye  wayve  to  par- 
forme  thilke  same  emprise  by  juste  cause,  men  schulde  not 
say  therfore  that  ye  were  a  lyere,  ne  for-sworn  ;  for  the 
book  seith,  that  the  wise  man  maketh  no  lesyng,  whan  he 
torneth  his  corrage  to  the  better.  And  al  be  it  so  that 
yen  :  emprise  be  establid  and  ordeyned  by  gret  multitude 

p'.ma.  «,  ericalis,—  a  collection  of  stories  and  moralizationa  in  Latin  prose, 
which  was  translated  afterwards  into  French  verse  under  the  title  of  the  Co*- 
toiement  d'un  pere  d  sonjils.  It  was  a  book  much  in  vogue  among  the  preach- 
ers from  the  thirteenth  to  the  fifteenth  century. 

12  JVe  may  not  be.  After  this  paragraph,  Chaucer  has  omitted  to  translate 
a  passage  of  the  French  original,  which,  as  it  is  requisite  to  understand  some 
parts  ot  the  lady's  reply,  is  here  given.  Melibeus  concludes  his  discourse 
with  the  observation,  "Car  il  est  escript,  la  genglerie  des  feinmes  ne  pu»i 
riens  celler  fors  ce  qu'elle  ne  sect.  A  pros  le  philozophe  dit,  en  mauvais  con- 
rfeii  lea  feinmes  yainqueut  les  honuiieu.  Et  par  ces  rai&ons  je  ne  dois  point 
u»ex  Ue  ton  cousoil." 


420  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


of  peopl*,  yet  thar  ye  not  accomplise  thilke  same  ordi- 
natince  but  you  like ;  for  the  trouthe  of  a  thing,  and  the 
profyt,  ben  rather  founde  in  fewe  folk  that  ben  wise  and 
ful  of  resoun,  than  by  gret  multitude  of  folk,  ther  every 
DJ°.n  crieth  and  clatereth  what  that  him  liketh  ;  sothely 
such  multitude  is  not  honest.  And  to  the  secounde  resoun, 
wher  as  ye  sayn,  that  alle  womrnen  ben  wikke  ;  save  youre 
grace,  eertis  ye  despise  alle  womrnen  in  this  wise,  and  he 
that  alle  despysith,  saith  the  book,  alle  displeseth.18  And 
Senec  saith,  Who  so  wil  have  sapience,  schal  no  man  dis- 
prayse,  but  he  schal  gladly  teche  the  science  that  he  can, 
withoute  presurnpcioun  or  pryde  ;  and  suche  thinges  as  he 
nought  can,  he  schal  not  ben  aschamed  to  lerne  hem,  and 
equere  of  lasse  folk  than  himself.  And,  sire,  that  ther  hath 
be  ful  many  a  good  worn  man,  may  lightly  be  proeved  }  for 
certes,  sire,  our  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  nolde  never  han  descend- 
ed to  be  borne  of  a  womman,14  if  alle  womrnen  hadde  ben 
wikke.  And  after  that,  for  the  grete  bounte  that  is  in 
wommen,  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  whan  he  was  risen  fro 
deth  to  lyve,  apperede  rather  to  a  womman  than  to  his 
apostles.  And  though  that  Salamon  say,  he  fond  never 
good  womman,  it  folwith  nought  therfore,  that  alle  wom- 
men ben  wikke ;  for  though  that  he  fonde  noone  goode 
wommen,  certes  many  another  man  hath  founden  many  a 
womman  ful  goode  and  trewe.  Or  elles  paraventure  then- 
tent  of  Salamon  was  this,  as  in  sovereyn  bounte  he  fond 
no  womman  j  this  is  to  say,  that  ther  is  no  wight  that  hath 
soverein  bounte,  save  God  aloone,  as  he  him  self  record- 
eth  in  his  Evaungelie.  For  ther  nys  no  creature  &o  good, 
that  him  ne  wantith  soni  what  of  the  perfeccioun  of  God 
that  is  his  makere.  Youre  thridde  resoun  is  this  ;  ye  seyn 
that  if  ye  governed  yow  by  counsel  of  me,  it  schulde  seme 
that  ye  hadde  geve  me  the  maystry  and  the  lordschipe  over 
youre  persone.  Sire,  save  youre  grace,  it  is  not  so  j  for  if 
so  were  that  no  man  schulde  be  counseiled  but  by  hem 
that  hadde  maystrie  and  lordschipe  of  his  persone,  men 
wolde  nought  be  counseiled  so  ofte  ;  for  sothly  thilke  man 
that  axeth  counseil  of  a  purpos,  yet  hath  he  fre  chois 
whether  he  wil  werke  by  that  purpos  or  non.  And  as  to 
youre  ferthe  resoun,  ther  ye  sayn  that  the  janglerie  of 
wommen  can  hyde  thinges  that  thay  wot  not  of  ;  as  who 
saith,  that  a  womman  can  nought  hyde  that  sche  woot ; 
sire,  these  wordes  ben  uuderstonde  of  wommen  that  ben 

u  And  he  that  alle  despysith.  "  Car  il  est  eecript,  qui  tout  deepriae,  a  toua 
despl&ist."  The  words  alle  displeseth,  are  omitted  in  the  Uarl.  Ms. 

14  May  lightly  .  .  .  of  a  womman.  The  whole  of  this  passage  has  bee» 
accidentally  omitted  by  the  scribe  of  the  Uarl.  Ms.  It  ie>  here  supplied  from 
the  L&usd.  Ms. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  421 

jangelers  and  wikke  ;  of  whiche  wommen  men  sayn  that 
thre  thinges  dryven  a  man  out  of  his  oughne  hous  ;  that  is 
to  say,  smoke,  droppyng  of  reyn,  and  wikked  wyfes.  Of 
Buche  wommen  saith  Salamon,  that  it  were  better  to  a  man 
to  dwelle  in  desert,  than  with  a  womman  that  is  riotous. 
And,  sire,  by  youre  leve,  that  am  not  I ;  for  ye  hau  ful  ofte 
assayed  my  grete  silence  and  my  grete  pacience,  and  eeb 
how  wel  that  I  can  hyde  and  hele  thinges  that  ben  secrelj 
to  hyde.  And  sothly,  as  to  youre  fyfte  resoun,  wher  as  ye 
sayn,  that  in  wikkede  counseil  wommen  venquisschoth 
men,  God  wot  thilke  resoun  stont  here  in  no  stede  ;  for 
understondith  now,  ye  axen  counseil  to  do  wickidnes  ;  and 
if  ye  wil  wirke  wickidnes,  and  youre  wyf  restreyne  thilke 
wicked  purpos,  and  overcome  you  by  resoun  and  by  good 
counseil,  certes  youre  wyf  oweth  rather  be  preised  than 
y-blamed.  Thus  schulde  ye  understonde  the  philosopher 
that  sei£h,  In  wicked  counseil  wommen  venquyschen  her 
housbondes.  And  ther  as  ye  blame  alle  wymmen  and  here 
resouns,  I  schal  schewe  by  many  resouns  and  ensamples 
that  many  a  womman  hath  ben  ful  good,  and  yit  been  and 
here  counseiles  ful  holsome  and  profitable.  Eke  some  men 
nan  sayd,  that  the  couriseilyng  of  wommen  is  outher  to 
dere,  or  to  litel  of  pris.  But  al  be  it  so  that  ful  many  a 
womman  is  badde,  and  hir  counseil  vile  and  not  worth,  yet 
han  men  founde  many  a  ful  good  womman,  and  ful  dis- 
cret  and  wys  in  counseilyng.  Lo,  Jacob,  by  counseil  of 
his  moder  Rebecca,  wan  the  blessyng  of  his  fader  Ysaac, 
and  the  lordschipe  of  alle  his  bretheren.  Judith,  by  hire 
good  counseil,  delyvered  the  citee  of  Bethulie,  in  which 
sche  dwellid,  out  of  the  honde  of  Olophernus,  that  had  by- 
seged  it,  and  wolde  it  al  destroye.  Abigayl  delivered  Na- 
bal  hir  housbond  fro  David  the  king,  that  wolde  have 
i-slayn  him,  and  appesed  the  ire  of  the  kyng  by  hir  witte, 
and  by  hir  good  counseilynge.  Hester  by  good  counseil 
enhaunsed  gretly  the  poeple  of  God,  in  the  regne  of  Assue- 
rus  the  kyng.  And  the  same  bounte  in  good  counseilyng  of 
many  a  good  womman  may  men  rede  and  telle.  And 
moreover,  whan  oure  Lord  had  creat  Adam  oure  forme 
fader,  he  sayde  in  this  wise :  It  is  not  good  to  be  a  man 
aloone  ;  make  we  to  him  an  help  semblable  to  him  self. 
Here  may  ye  se  that  if  that  a  womman  were  not  good,  and 
hir  counseil  good  and  profytable,  oure  Lord  God  of  heven 
wolde  neither  have  wrought  hem,  ne  called  hem  help  of 
man,  but  rather  coiif usioun  of  man.  And  ther  sayde  oones 
a  clerk  in  tuo  versus,15  What  is  better  that  gold  ?  Jasper. 

u  In  two  versus.    I  hare  not  met  with  th«  two  verses  in  question  ;  bat 


422  TEE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ani  what  is  better  than  jasper  ?  Wisedorn.  And  what  is 
better  than  wisedom  ?  Womman.  And  what  is  better 
than  a  good  womman?  No  thing.  And,  sire,  by  many 
other  resouns  may  ye  se,  that  many  wommen  ben  goode, 
And  eek  her  counseil  good 1G  and  profitable.  And  thttrfore, 
if  ye  will  truste  to  my  counseil,  I  schal  restore  you  your 
doughter  hool  and  sound;  and  eek  I  wil  doon  you  so 
moche,  that  ye  schul  have  honour  in  this  cause." 

Whan  Melibe  had  herd  these  wordes  of  his  wif  Prudens. 
he  seide  thus  :  "  I  se  wel  that  that  the  word  of  Salamon  i» 
Both  ;  he  seith,  that  the  wordes  that  ben  spoken  discretly 
by  ordinaunce,  been  honycombes,  for  thay  geveii  swetnes 
to  the  soule,  and  holsomnes 17  to  the  body.  And,  wyf ,  by- 
cause  of  thy  swete  wordes,  and  eek  for  I  have  assayed  and 
proved  thi  grete  sapiens  and  thi  grete  trouthe,  I  wil  gov- 
erne  me  by  thy  counseil  in  alle  thinges." 

"  Now,  sire,"  quod  dame  Prudens,  "  and  syn  ye  vouchen 
sauf  to  be  governed  by  my  counseilyng,  I  wil  enforme  you 
how  ye  schul  governe  youre  self,  in  chesyng  of  youre  con- 
seil.  Ye  schul  first  in  alle  youre  werkes  mekely  biseche  to 
the  hihe  God,  that  he  wol  be  yourcounseilour  ;  and  schape 
you  to  that  entent  that  he  give  you  counseil  and  confort, 
as  taughte  Toby  his  sone  :  At  alle  tymes  Thou  schalt  blesse 
God,  and  pray  him  to  dresse  thy  wayes  ;  and  loke  that  alle 
thi  counseiles  be  in  him  for  evermore.  Seint  Jame  eek 
saith  :  If  eny  of  vow  have  neede  of  sapiens,  axe  it  of  God. 
And  aftirward,  thanne  schul  ye  take  counseil  in  youre  self, 
and  examine  wel  youre  thoughtes,  of  suche  thinges  as  you 
thinkith  that  is  best  for  youre  profyt.  And  thanne  schul 
ye  dry ve  fro  youre  herte  thre  thinges 18  that  ben  contrarie 
to  good  counseil ;  that  is  to  say,  ire,  coveytise,  and  hasty- 
nes.  First,  he  that  axeth  counseil  of  him  self,  certes  he 
moste  be  withoute  ire,  for  many  cause.  The  first  is  this : 

they  seem  to  be  a  modification  of  a  distich  which  is  not  uncommon  in  Msi  , 
and  which  are  printed  thus  in  the  Ileliq.  Antiq.  i.  p.  19  :— 

Auro  quid  melius?  jaspis.    Quid  jaspide?  sensus. 

Sensu  quid  ?  ratio.    Quid  ratioiie  ?  nihil. 

In  the  manuscript  from  which  this  distich  is  there  printed;  it  is  coupled  with 
another  much  less  favorable  to  the  fair  sex  than  the  version  given  by  dame 
Prudence :— 

Vento  quid  levlus?  fulgur.    Quid  fulgure?  flainmn. 

Flammaquid?  mulicr.    Quid  muliere  'I  nihil. 

18  And  eek  her  counseil  good.    These  words  have  been  a«ci< I iMitai;y  .jn-tteo 
in  the  Harl.  Ms. 

17  Holsomnes.     The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  erroneously  hitinifi.    The  French 
original  has  et  sant&  au  corps. 

18  Dryve  fro  youre  herte  thre  thinges.     The  Harl.  Ms.  ,  e&ds  imperfectly 
hertes  tho  that  btn,  and  the  Lansd.  Ms.  omits  the  word  tfiri-,  which,  however, 
is  requisite  to  give  the  full  sense  of  the  original,—"  Kt   lots  tu  dnjg  oster  da 
toy  troix  choses  qui  sout  coutraires  a  couseil." 


TEE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUB.  423 

he  that  hath  gret  ire  and  wraththe  in  him  self,  he  weneth 
alwey  he  may  do  thing  that  he  may  not  doo.  And  secourid- 
ly,  he  that  is  irous  and  wroth,  he  may  not  \vel  deme  ;  and 
he  that  may  not  wel  deme,  may  nought  wel  counseile.  The 
thridde  is  this  :  that  he  that  is  irous  and  wroth,  as  saith 
Benec,  may  not  speke  but  blameful  things,  and  with  his 
vicious?  wordes  he  stireth  other  folk  to  anger  and  to  ire. 
And  eek,  sire,  ye  moste  dryve  coveitise  out  of  your  herte. 
For  thapostle  saith  that  coveytise  is  roote  of  alle  harmes. 
And  trusteth  wel,  that  a  coveitous  man  ne  can  not  deme 
ne  thirike,  but  oonly  to  fulfille  the  eiide  of  his  coveitise  ; 
and  certes  that  may  never  ben  accomplised ;  for  ever  the 
more  abundaunce  that  he  hath  of  riches,  the  more  he  de- 
sireth.  And,  sire,  ye  moste  also  dryve  out  of  your  herte 
hastynes  ;  for  certes  ye  may  nought  deme  for  the  beste  a 
sodein  thought  that  falleth  in  youre  herte,  but  ye  moste 
avyse  yoir  on  it  ful  ofte.  For  as  ye  herde  here  biforn,  the 
comune  proverbe  is  this  ;  that  he  that  soone  demeth,  soorie 
repeiitith.  Sire,  ye  ben  not  alway  in  lik  disposicioun,  for 
certis  som  thing  that  som  tyme  semeth  to  yow  that  it  is 
good  for  to  doo,  another  tyme  it  semeth  to  you  the  con- 
trarie.  Whan  ye  han  taken  counseil  in  youre  selven,  and 
han  denied  by  good  deliberacioun  such  thing  as  yow  sem- 
eth best,  thanne  rede  I  you  that  ye  kepe  it  secre.  By- 
wreye  nought  youre  counseil  to  no  persone,  but  it  so  be 
that  ye  wene  sicurly,  that  thurgh  youre  by wreyinge  youre 
condicioun  schal  be  to  yow  the  more  profytable.  For 
Jhesus  Syrac  saith,  Neither  to  tlii  foo  ne  to  thi  freend  dis- 
covere  not  thy  secre  ne  thy  foly ;  for  they  wil  give  you  au- 
dience and  lokyng  and  supportacioun  in  thi  presence,  arid 
scorn  in  thin  absence.  Another  clerk  saith,  that  skarsly 
schal  thou  fynde  eny  persone  that  may  kepe  counseil  se- 
creely.  The  book  saith  :  Whil  thou  kepist  thi  couiisail  in 
thin  herte,  thou  kepest  it  in  thi  prisoun  ;  and  whan  thou 
bywreyest  thi  counseil  to  any  wight,  he  holdeth  the  in  his 
snare.  And  therfore  yow  is  better  hyde  your  counseil  iu 
youre  herte,  than  prayen  him  to  whom  ye  have  bywryed 
youre  counseil,  that  he  wol  kepe  it  clos  and  stille.  For 
Seneca  seith  :  If  so  be  that  thou  ne  niaist  not  thin  owiie 
eounseil  hyde,  how  darst  thou  preyen  any  other  wight  thy 
counseil  secreely  to  kepe?  But  natheles,  if  thou  wene  se- 
eurly  that  thy  bywreying  of  thy  counseil  to  a  persone  wol 
make  thy  condicioun  stonde  in  the  better  plite,  thanne 
schalt  thou  telle  him  thy  counseil  in  this  wise.  First,  thou 
schalt  niaive  no  s^mblaunt  wher  the  were  lever  werre  or 
pee?,  or  this  or  that ;  ne  schewe  him  not  thi  wille  and  thin 
enteut ,  for  truste  wel  that  comurily  these  counseilours  ben 


424  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


flaterers,  namely  the  counselours  of  grete  lordes,  for  thay 
enforcen  hem  alway  rather  to  speke  plesaunt  wordes  enclyn- 
yng  to  the  lordes  lust,  than  wordes  that  been  trewe  and 
profytable.  And  therfore  men  say,  that  the  riche  man 
hath  selden  g-ood  counseil,  but  if  he  have  it  of  him  self. 
And  after  that  thou  schalt  consider  thy  frendes  and  thino 
enemyes.  And  as  touching  thy  frendes,  thou  schalt  con- 
sidere  which  of  hem  beth  most  faithful  and  most  wise,  and 
eldest  and  most  approvyd  in  counsaylinge;  and  of  hem 
echalt  thou  axe  thy  counsail,  as  the  caas  requireth. 

"  I  say,  that  first  ye  schul  clepe  to  youre  counseil  youre 
frendes  that  ben  trewe.  For  Salamori  saith,  that  right  as 
the  hert  of  a  man  delitith  in  savour  that  is  soote,  right  so 
the  counseil  of  trewe  frendes  geveth  swetnes  to  the  soule. 
He  saith  also,  ther  may  no  thing  be  likened  to  the  trewe 
freend ;  for  certes  gold  ne  silver  beth  nought  so  moohe 
worth  as  the  goode  wil  of  a  trewe  freend.  And  eek  he 
sayde,  that  a  trewe  frend  is  a  strong  defens  ;  who  that  it 
fyndeth,  certes  he  fyndeth  a  gret  tresour.  Thanne  schul 
we  can  considere  if  that  youre  trewe  frendes  ben  discrete 
and  wyse ;  for  the  book  saith,  Axe  thi  counseil  alwey  of 
hem  that  ben  wyse.  And  by  this  same  resoun  schul  ye 
clepe  to  your  counseil  of  youre  frendes  that  ben  of  age, 
suche  as  have  i-seye  sightes  and  ben  expert  in  many 
thinges,  and  ben  approvyd  in  counseylinges.  For  the 
book  saith,  19  that  in  olde  men  is  the  sapience,  and  in 
longe  tyrue  the  prudence.  And  Tullius  saith,  that  grete 
thinges  ben  not  ay  accompliced  by  strengthe,  no  by  delyv- 
ernes  of  body,  but  by  good  counseil,  by  auctoiite  of  per- 
sones,  and  by  science  ;  the  whiche  thre  thinges  ne  been 
not  feble  by  age,  but  certis  thay  enforsen  and  encresen  day 
by  day.  And  thanne  schul  ye  kepe  this  for  a  general 
reule.  First  schul  ye  clepe  to  youre  counseil  a  fewe  ol 
youre  frendes  that  ben  especial.  For  Salamori  saith, 
many  frendes  have  thou,  but  among  a  thousand  chese  the 
oon  to  be  thy  counseilour.  For  al  be  it  so,  that  thou  first 
ne  telle  thy  counseil  but  to  a  fewe,  thou  majst  afterward 
telle  it  to  mo  folk,  if  it  be  neede.  But  loke  ahvey  that  thy 
couriseilours  have  thilke  thre  condiciouns  that  I  have  sayd 
bifore  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  they  ben  trewe,  and  olde,  and 
of  wys  experiens.  And  werke  nought  alwey  in  every  neede 
by  ooa  counseilour  alloone  ;  for  som  tyme  byhovetii  it  be 
counselled  by  many.  For  Salamon  saith,  Salvaoiouu  cl 
thinges  is  wher  as  there  beth  many  counseilours. 

»  »T  the  l>ook  saiih.    The  original  refers  for  this  maxim  to  the  book  oi 
J«b,—  •  Car  il  cut  cscript  eu  Job. 


THE  TALK  OF  MELIBEU8.  426 

"  Now  sith  that  I  have  told  yow  of  whiche  folk  ye  schul 
*.>e  counselled,  now  wil  I  telle  yow  which  counseil  ye  ought 
eschiewe.  First,  ye  schal  eschiewe  the  counseil  of  fooles  ; 
for  Salamon  suith,  Take  no  counseil  of  a  fool,  for  he  ne  can 
no't  counseile  but  after  his  oughue  lust  and  his  affeceioun. 
Tho  book  seith,  that  the  proprete  of  a  fool  is  this :  he  trow- 
eth  lightly  harm  of  every  wight,  and  lightly  troweth  alle 
bounte  in  him  self.  Thow  schalt  eschiewe  eek  the  counseil 
cf  alle  flaterers,  suche  as  enforcen  hem  rathere  to  prayse 
youre  persone  by  flaterie,  than  for  to  telle  yow  the  soth- 
fastnesse  of  thinges.  Wherfore  Tullius  saith,  Amonges 
alle  pestilences  that  ben  in  frendschipe,  the  grettest  is 
flaterie.  And  therfore  is  it  more  neede  that  thou  eschiewe 
and  drede  flaterers,  more  than  eny  other  peple.  The  book 
saith,  Thou  schalt  rather  drede  and  flee  fro  the  swete 
wordes  of  flaterers,  then  fro  the  egre  wordes  of  thy  frend 
that  saith  the  thi  sothes.  Salamon  saith,  that  the  wordes 
of  a  flaterer  is  a  snare  to  cacche  in  innoceatz.  He  saith 
also,  lie  that  speketh  to  his  frend  wordes  of  swetnesse  and 
of  plesaunce,  setteth  a  nette  byfore  his  feet  to  cacchen  him. 
And  therfore  saith  Tullius,  Encline  not  thin  eeres  to  flat- 
erers, ne  tak  no  counseil 2J  of  the  wordes  of  flaterers.  And 
Catoun'21  saith,  Avyse  the  wel,  and  eschiewe  wordes  of 
swetnes  and  of  plesaunce.  And  eek  thou  schalt  eschiewe 
the  counselyng  of  thin  olde  enemys  that  ben  recounsiled 
The  book  saith,  that  no  wight  retorneth  safly  2-  into  the 
grace  of  his  olde  enemyes.  And  Ysope23  saith,  Ne  truste 
not  to  hem,  with  which  thou  hast  had  som  tyme  werre  or 
enmyte,  ne  telle  not  hem  thy  counseil.  And  Seneca  telleth 
the  cause  why  ;  it  may  not  be,  saith  he,  that  wher  as  a 
greet  fuyr  hath  longe  tyme  endured,  that  there  ne  lev- 
eth  som  vapour  of  hete.  And  therfore  saith  Salamon,  In 
thin  olde  enemy  truste  thou  nevere.  For  sicurly,  though 
thin  enemy  be  reconsiled,  and  make  the  cheer  of  humilite, 
and  lowteth  to  the  his  heed,  ne  trist  him  never  ;  for  certes 
he  makith  thilke  feyned  humilite  more  for  his  profyt,  than 
for  eny  love  of  thi  persone  ;  bycause  he  demyth  to  have 
victorie  over  thi  persone  by  such  feyned  countynaunce,  the 
which  victorie  lie  might  nought  have  by  stryf  and  werre. 
And  Petir  Alphons  saith  :  Make  no  felaschipe  witli  thine 

10  counseil.    I  have  retained  this  reading  on  the  authoritj  of  Ms.  Lansd. 
»rd  the  original  French.    The  Harl.  Me.  reads  con/ort. 

11  Catoun.     Lib.  iii.  dist.  6,— 

Serrnones  blandos  bhesosque  cavere  memento. 

M  Safly.    In  the  French  original,  seurement.    The  Harl.  Ma.  readi  soone, 
M    Ysnrte.    Soveral  collectious  of  fables  in  tlie  middle  ages  went  under  th« 

name  of  Vsope,  or  ./Esop  ;  so  that  it  would  not  be  ea»y  to  point  out  the  OIM 

from  which  this  moral  aphorism  It  taken. 


426  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

olde  enemyes,  for  if  thou  do  hem  bounte,  they  wil  per 
verten  it  into  wikkednes.  And  eek  thou  most  eschiewe 
the  counseilynge  of  hem  that  ben  thy  servauntz,  and 
beren  the  gret  reverence  ;  for  para  venture  thai  say  it  more 
for  drede  than  for  love.  And  therfore  saith  a  philosophrein 
this  wise  :  Ther  is  no  wight  parfytly  trewe  to  him  that  he 
to  sore  dredeth.  And  Tullius  saith,  Ther  is  no  might  so 
gret  of  any  emperour  that  long  may  endure,  but  if  he  have 
more  lovs  of  the  peple  than  drede.  Thow  schalt  also  es- 
chiewe the  counsel!  of  folk  that  ben  dronkelewe,  for  thay 
Tie  can  no  counsel  hyde.  For  Salamon  saith,  There  is  no 
•jrivete  ther  as  regneth  dronkenesse.24  Ye  schul  also  have 
in  £uspect  the  counseil  of  such  folk  as  counseileth  you  oon 
thing  prively,  and  counseileyow  the  con trarie  openly.  For 
Cassiodorie  saith,  It  is  a  maner  sleighte  -to  hind  re,25  whan 
he  schewith  to  doon  oon  thing  openly,  and  werkith  prively 
the  contrarie.  Thou  schalt  also  eschiewe  the  counseil  of 
wikked  folkes ;  for  the  book  saith,  The  counselyng  of 
wikked  folk  is  alv/ay  ful  of  fraude.  And  David  saith,  Blis- 
ful  is  that  man  that  hath  not  folwed  the  counseilyng  of 
wikked  men  or  schrewes.  Thow  schalt  also  eschiewe  the 
counseilynge  of  yonge  lolk,  for  here  counseil  is  nought 
rype. 

"Now,  sire,  syn  I  have  schewed  vow  of  what  folk  ye 
schul  take  youre  counsail,  and  of  whiche  folk  ye  schulleo 
eschiewe  the  counseil,  now  schal  I  teche  vow  how  ye  schul 
examyne  youre  counseil  after  the  doctrine  of  Tullius.  In 
examynyng  of  youre  counseiloures,  ye  schul  considre  many 
thinges.  Althirfirst  ye  schul  considre  that  in  thilke  thing 
that  thou  proposist,  and  up  what  thing  thou  wilt  have 
counseil,  that  verray  trouthe  be  sayd  and  corisiderid  ;  this 
is  to  sayn,  telle  trewely  thy  tale.  For  he  that  saith  fals, 
may  not  wel  be  counseled  in  that  cas  of  which  he  lyeth. 
And  after  this,  thou  schalt  considere  the  thinges  that  ac- 
corden  to  that  purpos  for  to'  do  by  thy  counseil,  if  resoun 
accorde  therto,  and  eek  if  thy  might  may  accorde  therto, 
and  if  the  more  part  and  the  better  part  of  thy  counseil- 
ours  accorde  therto  or  noon.  Thanne  schalt  thou  con- 
Hidere  what  thing  schal  folwe  of  that  consailyuge  ;  as  hate, 
pees,  werre,  grace,  profyt,  or  damage,  and  many  other 
thinges ;  and  in  alle  these  thinges  thou  schalt  chese  the 
beste,  and  weyve  alle  other  thinges.  Thanne  schalt  thou 

"  dronkenesse.    Nul  secret  n'est  ou  regne  yvresse.     Fr.oritj. 

15  to  hindre.  Tyrwhitt,  with  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  reads  to  hinder  his  enemy 
which  conveys  a  meaning  totally  different  from  that  of  the  original  French, 
which  has  :  '•"  Cassiodoire  dit,  une  maniero  de  greversoH  amy  est  quant  on  lui 
eonneille  une  chose  en  secret  et  moustre  en  appert  que  on  vcult  le  contrair«." 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  427 


eonsidre  of  what  roote  engendred  is  the  inatier  of  thy  conn- 
seil,  and  what  fruyt  it  may  conceve  and  entendre.  Thow 
schalt  also  consider  al  these  causes,  from  \vhens  thai  ben 
sprongen.  And  whan  ye  have  examined  youre  counseil.  as 
I  have  said,  and  which  party  is  the  better  and  more  profit- 
able, and  han  approved  by  many  wise  folk  and  olde,  than 
sehalt  thow  considre,  if  thon  maist  parforme  it  and  make 
of  it  a  good  ende.  For  resoun  wol  nought  that  any  man 
sehuld  bygynne  a  thing,  but  if  he  mighte  parforme  It  and 
make  therof  a  good  ende  ;  ne  no  wight  sehuld  take  upon 
him  so  hevy  a  charge,  that  he  mighte  not  bere  it.  For  the 
proverbe  seith,  He  that  moche  embrasith  destroyeth 2t;  litel. 
And  Catotin'27  seith,  Assay  to  do  such  thing  as  thou  hast 
power  to  doon,  lest  that  thy  charge  oppresse  the  so  sore, 
that  the  bihove  to  wayve  thing  that  thou  hast  bygonne. 
And  if  oo-be  that  thou  be  in  doubte,  wher  thou  inaist  par- 
forme  a  thing  or  noon,  chese  rather  to  suffre  than  bygynne. 
And  Petre  Alfons  saith,  If  thou  hast  might  to  doon  a 
thing,  of  which  thou  most  repente,  it  is  better  nay  than 
yee ;  this  is  to  sayn,  that  the  is  better  holde  thy  tonge 
stille  than  to  speke.  Than  may  ye  understonde  by  stronger 
resouns,  that  if  thou  hast  power  to  performe  a  Averk,  of 
which  thou  sehalt  repente,  thanne  is  it  better  that  thou 
sutTre  than  bigynne.  Wei  seyn  thay  that  defenden  every 
wight  to  assaie  thing  of  which  he  is  in  doute,  whethir  he 
may  performe  it  or  noon.  And  after  whan  ye  han  ex- 
amyned  youre  counseil,  as  I  have  sayd  biforn,  and  knowen 
wel  ye  may  performe  youre  emprise,  conferme  it  thanne 
sadly  til  it  be  at  an  ende. 

"  Now  is  it  tyme  and  resoun  that  Ischewe  yowwhanrie, 
and  wherfore,  that  ye  may  chaunge  youre  counseil  with- 
outen  reproef.  Sothly,  a  man  may  chaunge  his  purpos  and 
his  counseil,  if  the  cause  cesseth,  or  whan  anewe  cause  by- 
tydeth.  For  the  lawe  seith,  upon  thinges  that  iiewely  by- 
tideth.  bihoveth  newe  counseil.  And  Seneca  seith,  If  thy 
counseil  be  comen  to  the  eeres  of  thin  enemy,  chaunge  thy 
counsail.  Thow  maist  also  chaunge  thy  counseil,  if  so  be 
that  thou  fynde  that  by  errour,  or  by  other  processe,  harm 
or  damage  may  bytyde.  Also  thou  chaunge  thy  counscil,31 
if  thy  counseil  be  dishonest,  or  elles  cometh  of  dishonestt'  ; 


428  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


for  the  lawes  sayn,  that  alle  the  hestes  that  ben  dishoneste 
ben  of  no  valieu  ;  and  eek,  if  it  so  be  that  it  be  impossible, 
or  may  not  goodly  be  performed  or  kept.  And  take  this 
for  a  general  reule,  that  every  counseil  that  is  alfermed  or 
strengthod  so  strongly  that  it  may  not  be  chaunged  for  no 
condiciomi  that  may  bitide,  I  say  that  thilke  counseil  is 
wikked." 

This  Melibeus,  whan  he  had  herd  the  doctrine  of  his 
wyf  dame  Prudens,  answerde  in  this  wise.  "  Dame,"  quod 
he,  "  yit  as  into  this  tyme  ye  han  wel  and  covenably  taught 
me,  as  in  general,  how  I  schal  governe  me  in  the  chesynge 
and  in  the  withholdynge  of  my  counseiloures  ;  but  now 
wold  I  fayn  ye  wolde  condeseende  as  in  especial,  and  tell- 
eth  me  what  semeth  or  how  liketh  yow  by  oure  counseil- 
oures that  we  han  chosen  in  oure  present  neede." 

"  My  Lord,"  quod  sche,  "  I  bysekeyowin  alhumblesce, 
that  ye  wil  not  wilfully  repplye  ageinst  my  resouns,  ne 
distempre  youre  herte,  though  I  say  or  speke  thing  that 
yow  displesith,  for  God  woot  that,  as  in  niyn  entent,  I 
speke  it  for  youre  beste,  for  youre  honour,  and  for  your 
profyt  eek,  and  sothly  I  hope  that  youre  benignite  wol  take 
it  into  pacience.  For  trusteth  me  wel,"  quod  sche,  "  that 
youre  counseil  as  in  this  caas  ne  schulde  not  (as  for  to  speke 
propurly)  be  called  a  counseilyng,  but  a  mocioun  or  a 
moevyng  of  foly,  in  which  counseil  ye  han  erred  in  many 
a,  sondry  wise.  First  and  forward,  ye  han  erred  in  the 
gaderyng  of  youre  counseilours  ;  for  ye  schulde  first  han 
cleped  a  fe\ve  folkes,  if  it  hadde  be  neede.  But  certes  ye 
han  sodeiiily  cleped  to  your  counseil  a  gret  multitude  of 
poeple,  ful  chargeouH  and  ful  anoyous  for  to  hiere.  Also 
ye  han  erred,  for  ther  as  ye  schulde  oonly  have  clepid  to 
youre  counseil  youre  trewe  frendes,  olde  and  wise,  ye  have 
i-cleped  straunge  folk,  yonge  folk,  false  Caterers,  and  ene- 
myes  reconsiled,  and  folk  that  doon  yow  reverence  with- 
oute  love.  And  also  ye  han  erred,  for  ye  han  brought  with 
yow  to  youre  counseil  ire,  coveitise,  and  hastynes,  tLe 
wluche  thre  things  ben  contrarious  to  every  counsail  hon- 
est and  profitable  ;  the  which  thre  thinges  ye  have  nought 
annentissched  or  destroyed,  neyther  in  youre  self  ne  in  you  re 
counseiloures,  as  ye  oughte.  Also  ye  have  erred,  for  yt 
have  schewed  to  youre  counseilours  youre  talent  and 
youre  affeccioun  to  make  werre,  and  for  to  doon  vengeaunce 
anoon,  and  thay  han  espyed  by  youre  wordes  to  what 
thinge  ye  ben  eiicliued  ;  and  therefore  have  thay  counselled 
yow  rather  to  youre  talent  than  to  youre  profyt.  Ye  have 
erred  also,  for  it  semeth  that  yow  sufficeth  to  have  been 
counselled  by  these  couiisejlours  only,  and  with  litel  avys, 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  429 

wher  as  in  so  gret  and  so  heigh  a  neede,  it  hadtle  be  neces- 
sarious  mo  counseilours  and  more  deliberacioun  to  per- 
forme  youre  emprise.  Ye  have  erred  also,29  for  ye  have 
maked  no  divisioun  bytwixe  youre  counseilours ;  this  is  to 
seyn,  bitwix  youre  frendes  and  youre  feyned  counseilours  ; 
ne  yo  ne  have  nought  i-knowe  the  wille  of  youre  frendes, 
nlde  and  wise,  but  ye  have  cast  alle  here  wordes  in  an  hoche- 
!>oche,  and  enclyned  youre  herte  to  the  more  part  and  to 
(be  gretter  iiombre,  and  there  be  ye  condescendid ;  and 
ayn  ye  wot  wel  men  schal  alway  fynde  a  gretter  nombre  of 
fooles  than  of  wyse  men,  and  therfore  the  counsailes  that 
ben  at  eongregaciouna  and  multitudes  of  folk,  ther  as  men 
taken  more  reward  to  the  nombre  than  to  the  sapience  of 
person es,  ye  se  wel  that  in  suche  counseilynges  fooles  have 
maystrie." 

Melibeus  answerde  agayn  and  sayde  :  "I  graunte  wel 
that  I  have  erred  ;  but  ther  as  thou  hast  told  me  to-forn, 
that  he  is  nought  to  blame  that  chaungeth  his  counseilours 
in  certeyn  caas,  and  for  certeyn  juste  causes,  I  am  al  redy 
to  chaunge  my  counseilours  right  as  thou  wiltdevyse.  The 
proverbe  saitli,  that  for  to  do  synne  is  niannysch,  but  cer- 
tes-for  to  persevere  longe  in  synne  is  werk  of  the  devyl." 

To  this  sentence  anoon  answerde  dame  Prudens,  and 
saide  :  "  Examineth,"  quod  sche,  "  youre  counsail,  and 
let  us  se  which  of  hem  hath  spoke  most  resonably,  and 
taught  you  best  counsail.  And  for  as  moche  as  the  ex- 
aminacioun  is  necessarie,  let  us  byginne  at  the  surgiens  and 
at  the  phisiciens,  that  first  speken  in  this  matiere.  I  say 
you  that  the  surgiens  and  the  phisiciens  han  sayd  yow  in 
youre  counseil  discretly,  as  hem  ought ;  and  inhere  speche 
sayden  ful  wisely,  that  to  the  office  of  hem  appendith  to 
doon  to  every  wight  honour  and  profyt,  and  no  wight  to 
annoy,  and  after  here  craft  to  do  gret  diligence  unto  the 
cure  of  hem  whiche  that  thay  have  in  here  govemaunce. 
And,  sire,  right  as  thay  answerde  wisely  and  discretly, 
right  so  rede  1  that  thay  be  heighly  and  soveraigrily  guer- 
ioned  for  here  noble  speche,  and  eek  for  thay  schullen  do 
;Jie  more  entt  ntyf  besynes  in  the  curyng  of  youre  doughtev 
1  ;ro.  For  al  be  it  so  that  that  be  youre  frendes,  therfore 
»rhul  ye  noughtsuffre  that  thay  schul  serve  yow  fornought, 
but  ye  oughte  the  rathere  to  guerdoune  hem  and  schewe 
liem  youre  largesse.  And  as  touchynge  theproposiciouns 
whiche  the  phisiciens  han  schewed  you  in  this  caas,  this  is 

18  Ye  have  erred  also.  TyrwhiU  has  here  added  a  short  paragraph,  appar- 
ently made  up  from  more  than  one  MS.  The  original  is:  "Apres  tu  us  err*5 
quant  tu  as  feit  la  division  do  ton  conseil ;  tu  n'as  mie  euivy  la  voulent^  da 
tt*  loyaux  amis  saiges  et  anciens,  inais  as  seulement  regarde  le  grante  iiom- 
bre  ;  ot  tu  goes  quo  tousjours  li  fol  gout  en  plug  grant  nombre  que  lo 


430  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


to  sayn,  that  in  maladyes  oon  contrarie  is  warissh*     by 
another  contrarie,  I  wolde  fayn  kuowe  thilke  text  and  now 
thay  understonde  it,  and  what  is  youre  entente."     "  Cer- 
tes,"  quod  Melibeus,  "  I  understonde  it  in   this  wise  ;  that 
right   as    thay  han  do   me  a  contrarie,  right  so  schold  I 
do  hem  another  ;  for  right  as  thai  han   venged  hem  on 
me  and  doon  me  wrong,  right  so  schal  I  venge  me  upon 
hem,  and  doon  hem  wrong  ;  and  thanne  have  I  cured  oon 
soctrario  by  another."     "  Lo,  Lo,"  quod  dame  Prudence 
"  how  lightly  is  every  man  enclyned  to  his  oughne  plea 
Aunce  and  to  his  oughne  desir  !  Certes,"  quod  sche,  "th« 
wordes  of  the  phisiciens  ne  schulde  nought  have  ben  un- 
derstonde sone  in  that  wise ;  for  certes  wikkednesse  is  no 
contrarie  to  wickednesse,  ne  vengauns  to  vengeaunce,  ne 
wrong  to  wrong,  but  thai  ben  semblable  ;  and  therfore  a 
vengeaunce  is  nought  warisshed  by  another  vengeaunce  ne 
oon  wrong  by  another  wrong,  but  everych  of  hem  encreseth 
and  engreggith  other.     But  certes  the  wordes  of  the  phisi- 
ciens schul  ben  understonde   in  this  wise ;  for  good  and 
wikkednesse  ben  tuo  contraries,  and  pees  and  werre,  ven- 
geaunce and  sufferaunce,  discord  and  accord,  and  many 
other  thinges ;  but,  certes,  wikkednes  schal  be  warrisshed 
by  goodnesse,  discord  by  accord,  werre  by  pees,   and  so 
forth  of  other  thinges.     And  herto  accordith  seirit  Paul  the 
apostil  in  many  places  ;  he  saith,  Ne  yeldith  nought  harm 
for  harm,   ne  wikked   speche  for  wikked  speche  ;  but  do 
wel  to  him  that  doth  the  harm,  and  blesse  him  that  saith 
the  harme.     And  in  many  other  places  he  amonesteth  pees 
and  accord.     But  now  wil  1  speke  to  yow  of  the  counseil, 
which  was  give  to  yow  by  the  men  of  lawe,  and  the  wise 
folk,  and  olde  folk,30  that  sayde  alle  by  oon  accord  as  ye 
have  herd  byfore,  that  over  alle  thinges  ye  schal  do  youre 
diligence  to  kepe  youre  persone,  and  to  warmstore  youre 
house ;    and  seyden  also,  that  in  this  yow  aughte  for  to 
wirche  fnl  avysily  and  with  gret  deliberacioun.     And,  sire,, 
as  to  the  firste  poynt,  that  touched  to  the  kepinge  of  youre 
l>ersone,  ye  schul  understonde,  that  he  that  hath  werre, 
gchal   evermore  devoutly  and  mekely  prayen  biforn  alle 
thinges,  that  Jhesu  Crist  wil  of  his  mercy  have  him  in  his 
proteccioun,  and  ben  his  soverayn  helpyng  at  his  neede ; 
for  certes  in  this  world  ther  nys  no  wight  that  may  be 
counselled  or  kept  sufficauntly,  withoute  the  kepinge   ot 
oure  lord  Jhesu  Grist.     To  this  sentence  accordeth  the  pro- 
phete  David,  that  seith  :  If  God  ne  kepe  not  the  citee,  iu 
ydel  wakith  he  that  kepith  it.     Now,  sire,  thanne  schul  ye 

»  and  olde  folk.    These  three  words  are  omitted  hi  the  H&rl.  MH.,  bat  J 
k*r*  restored  them  from  tbe  Ms.  Lausd.  and  the  French  origiual. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  431 


eommltte  the  keping  of  youre  persone  to  youre  trewe 
frendts,  that  ben  approved  and  y-knowe,  and  of  hern  schul 
ye  axen  help,  youre  persone  to  kepe.  For  Catoun  81  saith  : 
If  thou  have  neede  of  help,  axe  it  of  thy  freendes,  for  ther 
is  noon  so  good  a  phisicien  at  neede  as  is  a  trewe  frend. 
And  after  this  than  schal  ye  kepe  you  fro  alle  straunge 
folkes,  and  for  lyeres,  and  have  alway  in  suspect  here  com- 
paignye.  For  Pieres  Alfons  saith  :  Netake  no  cornpaignia 
by  the  way  of  a  straunge  man,  but  so  be  that  thou  know* 
him  of  a  lenger  tyme  ;  and  if  so  be  he  falle  into  thy  com- 
paignye  paraventure  withouten  thin  assent,  enquere 
thanne,  as  subtilly  as  thou  maist,  of  hisconversacioun,  and 
of  his  lyf  bifore,  and  feyne  thy  way,  and  say  that  thou  wilt 
go  thider  as  thou  wolt  nought  goon  ;  and  if  he  here  aspere, 
hold  the  on  the  right  syde,  and  if  he  bere  a  swerd,  holde 
the  on  the  lyft  syde.  And  so  after  this,  thanne  schul  ye 
kepe  you  wisely  from  al  such  pepleas  I  have  sayd  bifore, 
and  hem  and  here  counseil  eschiewe.  And  so  after  this, 
thanne  schul  ye  kepe  yow  in  such  manere,  that  for  eriy 
presunipcioun  of  youre  strengthe,  that  ye  despise  not  the 
might  of  youre  adversarie  so  lite,  that  ye  lete  the  kepinge 
of  youre  persons  for  your  presunipcioun  ;  for  every  wis 
man  dredeth  his  enemy.  And  Salamon  saith,  Weleful  is 
he  that  of  alle  hath  drede  ;  for  certes  he  that  thurgh 
hardynes  of  his  herte,  and  thurgh  the  hardinesse  of  him- 
self, hath  to  gret  presunipcioun,  him  schal  evyl  bitids. 
Thanne  schal  ye  evermore  counterwayte  embusshementz 
and  alle  espiaille.  For  Senec  saith,  that  the  wise  man  that 
dredith  harmes,  eschiewith  hai-uies,  ne  he  ne  fallith  into 
noone  perils,  that  perils  eschieweth.  And  al  be  it  so  that 
the  seme  that  thou  art  in  siker  place,  yit  schaltow  alway 
do  thy  diligence  in  kepyng  of  thy  persone  ;  this  is  to  say, 
be  not  necgligent  to  kepe  Uiy  persone,  nought  oonly  for 
thy  gretteste  enemyes,  but  fro  thy  lest  enemyes.  Senec 
saith  :  A  man  that  is  wel  avysed,  he  dredith  his  lest  enemy. 
Ovide  seith,32  that  the  litel  we^".  wol  sle  the  grete  bole  and 
the  wilde  hert.  And  the  book  saith,  a  litel  thorn  wol 
prikke  a  king  ful  sore,  and  an  hound  wol  holde  the  wilde 
boore.  But  natheles,  I  say  riot  that  ye  schul  be  so  mocha 
a  coward,  that  ye  doute  where  is  no  neede  or  drede.  The 

M  Catoun.  The  passage  alluded  to  is  found  in  the  Distch.  de  Morib.  lib. 
IT.  diBt.  14. 

Auxilium  a  notia  petito,  Bi  forts  laboras, 

Nee  qiiiaquam  melior  medicus  quam  fidus  amicus. 

«  Ovide  seith.  The  original  quotes  more  fully,  "  Et  Ovide,  ou  liyre  du« 
Remede  d'Amoura."  The  maxim  is  not  found,  aa  far  as  I  caii  discover,  in 
Prid.  de  Itemed.  Amor. 


432  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

book  saith,83  that  som  folk  have  gret  lust  to  discey  ve,  but 
yit  thay  dreden  hem  to  be  deceyved.  Yet  schal  ye  drede 
to  ben  empoisoned.  And  kepe  the  fro  the  companye  of 
seorners ;  for  the  book  saith,  -with  scorners  make  no  corn- 
paignye,  but  flee  hem  and  here  wordes  as  venym. 

"  Now  as  to  the  secounde  poynt,  where  as  youre  wise 
Rounseilours  warnede  yow  to  warmstore  youre  hous  with 
?ret  diligence,  I  wolde  fayn  wite  how  that  ey  understoode 
thilke  wordes,  and  what  is  your  sentence."  Melibeus  an- 
*werde  and  saide :  "  Certes,  I  understonde  it  in  this  wise, 
that  I  schal  warmstore  myn  hous  with  toures,  suche  as  nan 
castiles  and  other  maner  edifices,  and  armure,  and  artil- 
ries  ;  by  suche  thinges  I  may  my  persone  and  myn  hous  so 
kepen  and  ediflen  and  defenden,  that  myn  enernyes  schul 
be  in  drede  myn  hous  to  approche." 

To  this  sentence  answerde  dame  Prudence :  "  Warin- 
storynge,"  quod  sche,  "  of  heihe  toures  and  grete  edifices, 
is  with  grete  costages  and  grete  travaile  ;  and  whan  that 
thay  ben  accomplised,  yit  beth  thay  nought  worth  a  straw, 
but  if  they  be  defended  by  trewe  frendes,  that  beth  olde 
and  wise.  And  understondeth  that  the  grettest  strength  01 
garnisoun  that  the  riche  man  may  have,  as  wel  to  kepe 
his  persone  as  his  goodes,  is  that  he  be  biloved  with  his 
subgites  and  with  his  neighebours.  For  thus  saith  Tullius, 
that  ther  is  a  maner  garnisoun  that  no  man  may  ven- 
quisshe  ne  discomfite,  and  that  is  a  lord  to  be  biloved  with 
his  citezeins  and  of  his  peple. 

"  Now  thanne  as  to  youre  thridde  poynt,  where  as  youre 
olde  and  wyse  counseillours  sayde,  ye  oughte  nought  so- 
deinly  ne  hastily  precede  in  this  neede,  but  that  ye  oughte 
purveyen  yow  and  apparaile  yow  in  this  caas  with  greet 
diligence  and  gret  deliberacioun  ;  trewely,  I  trowe,  that 
thay  sayderi  soth  and  right  wisely.  For  Tullius  saith  :  '  In 
every  nede,  er  thou  bigynne  it,  apparaile  the  with  gret  dil- 
igence.' Thanne  say  I,  that  in  vengeance  takinge,  in 
werre,  in  bataile,  and  in  warmstoringe  of  thin  hous,  er 
thou  bygynne,  I  rede  that  thou  apparaille  the  therto,  and 
io  it  with  gret  deliberacioun.  For  Tullius  saith,  that  long 
apparaylyng  byfore  the  bataille,  maketh  schort  victorie. 
And  Cassiilorus  saith,  the  garnisoun  is  stronger  whan  it  is 
'ong  tyme  avysed. 

"  But  now  let  us  speke  of  the  counseil  that  was  accorded 

M  The  book  saith.  "  Car  il  est  escript,  aucunes  gens  out  enseingnie  leur 
decevoir,  car  ila  out  trop  double  que  on  ne  lea  deceuat."  Tyrwhitt  has  what 
he  calls  "  patched  up"  this  passage  in  his  edition,  by  the  insertion  of  seme 
words  of  his  own  I  have  followed  the  Harl.  Ms.  exactly.  Chaucer  ampli- 
fier and  alters  his  original  in  this  part,  which  makes  it  difficult  to  correct  11 
by  the  i'rench. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  438 


by  yonre  neighebours,  suche  as  doon  you  reverence  witb- 
oute  love,  youre  olde  enemyes  recounsiled,  your  flatereres, 
that  counseile  vow  certeyn  thinges  pryvely,  and  openly 
counseile  yow  the  eontrarie,  the  yonge  also,  that  oounsaile 
yow  to  make  werre  and  venge  yow  anoon.  And  certes, 
sire,  as  I  have  sayd  byforn,  ye  have  gretly  erred  to  have 
cleped  such  maner  folk  to  youre  counseil,  whiche  be  now 
vepreved  by  resouns  before  sayd.  But  natheles  let  us  no* 
descende  to  the  purpos  special.  Ye  schul  first  precede  after 
the  doctrine  of  Tullius.  Certes,  the  trouthe  of  this  niatier 
or  this  counseil  nedeth  nought  diligently  enquere,  for  it  is 
wel  wist  whiche  it  ben  that  doon  to  yow  this  trespas  and 
vilonye,  and  how  many  trespasoures,  and  in  what  maner 
thay  han  to  yow  doon  al  this  wrong  al  this  vilonye.  And 
after  that  schul  ye  examyne  the  secounde  condicioun, 
which  Tullius  addith  therto  in  this  matier.  Tullius  put  a 
thing,  "which  that  he  clepeth  consentynge  ;  M  this  is  to 
sayn,  -xrho  ben  thay,  and  whiche  ben  thay,  and  how  many, 
that  consentid  to  this  matiere,  and  to  thy  counsail  in  thy 
wilful nesse,  to  do  haaty  vengeaunces.  And  let  us  considere 
also  who  ben  tho,  and  how  many  ben  tho,  that  consente- 
den  ^  to  youre  adversaries.  And  certes,  as  to  the  first 
poynt,  it  is  wel  knoweri  whiche  folk  ben  thay  that  consentid 
to  youre  first  wilfulnes.  For  trewly,  alle  tho  that  coun- 
sailled  yow  to  make  sodeyn  werre,  beth  nought  youre 
frendes.  Let  us  considre  whiche  ben  tho  that  ye  holde  so 
gretly  youre  frendes,  as  to  youre  persone  ;  for  al  be  it  so 
that  ye  be  mighty  and  riche,  certes  ye  been  alloone ;  for 
certes  ye  have  no  childe  but  a  doughter,  ne  ye  have  no 
bretheren,  ne  cosins  germayns,  ne  noon  other  neigh  kyn- 
rede,  wherfore  that  youre  enemyes  for  drede  schulden 
stynte  for  to  plede  with  you,  and  struye  youre  persone. 
Ye  knowe  also,  that  youre  richesses  mooten  in  divers  par- 
ties be  departed  ;  and  whan  every  wight  hath  his  part, 
thay  wol  take  but  litel  reward  to  venge  thy  deth.  But 
thyne  enemyes  ben  thre,  and  have  many  children,  breth- 
eren, cosynes,  and  othere  neigh  kynrede  ;  and  though  itsc 
were  ye  hadde  slayn  of  hem  tuo  or  thre,  yet  dwellen  there 
y--nowe  to  wrek }  her  deth  and  sle  thi  persone.  And  though 
so  were  that  youre  kynrede  were  more  sekir  and  stedefast 
than  the  kynrede  of  youre  adversaries,  yit  natheles  youre 
kynrede  nis  but  a  fer  30  kynrede,  and  litel  sib  to  yow,  and 

84  Consentynge.  The  Karl.  Ms.  reads  covetynge,  by  an  error  of  the  scribe, 
M  appears  by  the  sequel. 

si  (Jonsentetten,  1  hare  restored  this  reading  from  Ms.  Lansd.  and  the 
French  original,  instead  of  the  reading  of  the  llarl.  Ms.,  that  ben,  count  til- 
tmrs. 

*•  A  fer.  This  is  Tyrwhitt's  reading,  which  geems  to  agree  better  with  the 
context  than  the  reading  of  the  Ha«l.  Ms.,  litel. 


434  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


the  kyn  of  yonre  enemyes  ben  neigh  sibbe  to  hem.  And 
certes,  as  in  that,  here  condicioun  is  bet  than  youres. 
Thanne  let  us  considere  also  if  the  counseilynge  of  hem 
that  counselled  yow  to  take  sodein  vengeance,  whethir  it 
acoorde  to  resoun.  And  certes,  ye  knowe  wel,  nay  ;  for  as 
by  right  and  resoun,  ther  may  no  man  taken  vengeaurioe 
upon  no  wight,  but  the  jugge  that  hath  jurediccioun  of  it, 
whan  it  is  y-graunted  him  to  take  thilke  vengeaunce  has- 
tily, or  attemperely,  as  the  law  requireth.  And  yit  more- 
over of  thilke  word  that  Tullius  clepith  consentynge.. 
thou  schalt  considre,  if  thy  might  and  thy  power  may  con- 
sente  and  suffice  to  thy  wilfulnes  and  to  thy  counseilours. 
And  certes,  thou  maist  wel  say,  that  nay  ;  for  sicurly,  as 
for  to  speke  properly,  we  may  doo  no  thing  but  oonly  oon 
tiling  which  we  may  do  rightfully  ;  and  certes  rightfully 
may  ye  take  no  vengeance,  as  of  youre  owne  auctorite. 
Than  may  ye  se  that  youre  power  consentith  not,  ne  ac- 
cordith  not,  with  youre  wilfulnesse. 

"  Let  us  now  examine  the  thridde  poynt,  that  Tullius 
clepeth  consequente.  Thou  schalt  understoride,  that  the 
vengeance  that  thou  purposiddest  for  to  take,  is  consequent, 
and  therof  folweth  another  vengeaunce,  peril,  and  werre, 
and  other  damages  withoute  nombre,  of  whiche  we  be  not 
war,  as  at  this  tyme.  And  as  touching  the  fourthe  poynt, 
that  Tullius  clepeth  engendrynge,  thou  schalt  considre  that 
this  wrong  which  that  is  doon  to  the,  is  engeridred  of  the 
hate  of  thin  enemyes,  and  of  the  vengeaunce  takinge  up 
that  wolde  engendre  another  vengeaunce,  and  moche 
sorwe  and  wastyng  of  riches,  as  I  sayde.  Now,  sire,  as  to 
the  poynt  that  Tullius  clepith  causes,  whiche  that  is 
the  laste  poynt,  thou  schalt  understonde  that  the  wrong 
that  thou  hast  receyved  hath  certeyn  causes,  whiche 
that  clerkes  calle  oriens,  and  efficiens,  and  causa  longin- 
qua,  and  causa  propinqua,  this  is  to  say,  the  fer  cause, 
and  the  neigh  cause.  For  the  fer  cause  is  almighty  God, 
that  is  cause  of  alle  thinges  ;  the  nere  cause  is  the  thre 
enemyes  ;  the  cause  accidental  was  hate  ;  the  causes  inato- 
riales  been  the  fyve  woundes  of  thy  doughter  ;  the  caus« 
formal  is  the  maner  of  here  werkyng,  that  brought  in  lad 
dres  and  clombe  in  at  thin  wyndowes ;  the  cause  final  \va» 
for  to  sle  thy  doughter  ;  it  letted  nought  in  as  moche  as 
was  in  hem.  But  for  to  speke  of  the  fer  cause,  as  to  what 
ende  they  schal  come,  or  what  schal  finally  betyde  of  hem 
in  this  cause,  can  I  not  deme,  but  by  conjectyng  and  by 
supposyng  ;  for  we  schul  suppose,  that  they  schui  come  to 
a  wikked  ende,  bycause  that  the  book  of  Decrees  saith. : 
Seelden,  or  with  gret  peyne,  ben  causes  i-brought  to  a  good 
ende,  whan  thay  ben  evyl  bygonne. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  436 


"  Now,  sire,  if  men  wolde  axe  me,  why  that  God  stiff  rede 
men  to  do  yow  this  wrong  and  vilonye,  certes  I  can  not 
wel  answere,  as  for  no  sothfastnes.  For  the  apostil  saith, 
that  the  sciences  and  the  juggernauts  of  oure  Lord  God 
aluiyghty  ben  ful  deepe,  ther  may  no  man  comprehende 
ae  serchen  hem  sufficiauntly.  Natheles,  by  certeyn  pre- 
mmpciouns  andconjectinges,  I  holde  and  bilieve,  that  God, 
which  that  is  ful  of  justice  and  of  rightwisnesse,  hath  sui- 
?re<l  this  to  bityde,  by  juste  cause  resonable.  Thy  name, 
MeJibe,  is  to  say,  a  man  that  drynketh  horiy.  Thou  hast 
y-dronke  so  moche  hony  of  sweete  temperel  richesses  and 
delices  and  honours  of  this  world,  that  thou  art  dronke, 
and  hast  forgete  Jhesu  Crist  thy  creatour ;  thou  hast  not 
doon  him  such  honour  and  reverence  as  the  oughto  to 
doone,  ne  thou  hast  nought  wel  taken  keep  to  the  wordes 
of  Ovide,37  that  saith,  Under  the  hony  of  thy  goodes  of  thy 
body  is  hid  the  venym  that  sleeth  thi  soule.  And  Salamon 
saith,  If  thou  have  founde  hony,  ete  of  it  that  sufficeth  ; 
for  if  thou  ete  of  it  out  of  mesure,  thou  slialt  spewe,  and  be 
nedy  and  povere.  And  pera venture  Crist  hath  the  in 
despit,  and  hath  torned  away  fro  the  his  face  and  his  eeros 
of  misericorde ;  and  also  he  hath  suffred  that  thou  hast 
ben  punysshed  in  the  maner  that  thou  hast  i-trespassed. 
Thou  hast  doon  synne  ageinst  oure  Lord  Crist,  for  certes 
thi  thre  enemyes  of  mankynde,  that  is  to  say,  thy  flessche, 
the  feend,  and  the  world,  thou  hast  y-suffred  hem  to  enlre 
into  thin  herte  wilfully,  by  the  wyndow  of  thy  body,  and 
hast  nought  defended  thiself  sufficiently  agayns  here  as- 
sautes,3*  arid  here  temptaciouns,  so  that  they  have  woun- 
did  thi  soule  in  fyve  places,  this  is  to  sayn,  the  dedly  synnes 
that  ben  entred  into  thin  herte  by  thy  fvye  wittes  ;  and  in 
the  same  maner  oure  Lord  Crist  hath  wolde  and  suffred, 
that  thy  thre  enemyes  ben  eutred  into  thin  hous  by  tho 
wyndowes,  and  have  i-woundid  thi  doughter  in  the  for- 
saydo  maner." 

''  Certes,"  quod Melibeus,  "  I  sewel  that  ye  enforce  yow 
uioche  by  wordes  to  overcome  me,  in  such  manere,  that  I 
•jchal  not  venge  me  on  myn  enemyes,  schewynge  me  the 
perils  and  the  y  veles  that  mighten  falle  of  this  vengeaunce. 
But  who  so  wolde  considre  in  alle  vengeaunces  the  periles 
and  the  yveles  that  mighten  folwe  of  vengeaunces  takynge, 
a  man  wolde  never  take  vengeaunce,  and  that  were  harm; 

•*  Ovide.    I  presume  the  allusion  ia  to  Ovid.  Amor.  lib.  1.  el.  riii.  104. 
Impia  sub  dulci  rnelle  venena  latent. 

«•  Assaults.  The  Harl.  Ma.  reads  ascentls,  and  the  1  JIH  la.  Ms.  tle/auUt. 
The  reading  here  adopted  from  Tyrwhitt  is  authorized  by  the  French  orij 
o*l,  which  has  assaux. 


436  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


for  by  verigeaunce  takynge  be  wikked  men  destruyed  and 
dissevered  fro  the  goode  men.  And  they  that  have  wille 
to  wikkednes,  restreignen  here  wikked  purpos,  whan  thay 
seen  the  punysshyng  and  the  chastisyng  of  trespasours. 

"  And  yit89  say  I  more,  that  right  so  as  a  sengle  persons 
synneth  in  taking  of  vengeaunce,  right  so  the  jngge  syn- 
neth  if  he  doo  no  vengeaunce  of  him  that  it  hath  deserved. 
For  Senec  saith  thus  :  That  maister,  he  saith,  is  good  that 
.•eprovetk  schrewes.40  And  as  Cassoder  saith  :  A  man 
Iredeth  to  doon  outrage,  whan  he  woot  and  knoweth  that 
it  displeseth  to  the  jugges  arid  the  soveraynes.  And  an- 
other saith  ;  The  jugge  that  dredeth  to  demen  right,  mak- 
eth  schrewes.  And  seint  Poul  thappostoil  saith  in  his 
epistil,  whan  he  writeth  to  the  Romayns  :  The  jugges 
bere  not  the  spere  withoute  cause,  but  they  beren  it  to 
punysshe  the  schrewes  and  mysdoers,  and  for  to  defende 
with  the  goode  men.  If  ye  wol  take  vengeaunce  on  youre 
enemyes,  ye  schul  retourne  or  have  recours  to  the  jugges, 
that  have  jurediccioun  upon  hem,  and  he  schal  punissche 
hem,  as  the  la  we  axeth  and  requireth."  "A  I"  quod 
Melibeus,  "  this  vengeaunce  liketh  me  no  thing.  I  by- 
therike  me  now,  and  take  heed,  how  fortune  hath  noris- 
sched  me  fro  my  childhode,  and  hath  holpe  me  to  passen 
many  a  strayt  passage  ;  now  wol  I  aske  her  that  scho 
schal,  with  Goddes  help,  helpe  me  my  schaiue  for  to 
venge." 

"Certes,"  quod  Prudence,  "  if  ye  wil  wirche  by  my 
counseil,  ye  schul  not  assaye  fortune  by  no  maner  way,  ne 
?chul  not  lene  ne  bowe  unto  hire,  after  the  word  of  Senec  ; 
for  thinges  that  beth  folly,  and  that  beth  in  hope  of  fortune, 
schul  never  come  to  good  ende.  And  as  the  same  Sene's 
saith  :  The  more  cleer  and  the  more  schyriyngethat  fortune 
is,  the  more  brutil,  and  the  sonner  breketh  sche.  So 
trusteth,  nought  in  hire,  for  sche  is  nought  stedefast  ne 
stable  :  for  whan  thou  wenest  or  trowest  to  be  most  seur 
of  hir  help,  sche  wol  fayle  and  deceyve  the.  And  wher  as 
pe  say,  that  fortune  hath  norisshed  yow  fro  your  child- 
,  I  say  that  in  so  mochel  ye  schul  the  lasse  truste  in 


**  Aiid  yit.  The  commencement  of  this  paragraph,  which  is  very  neces 
sary  tor  the  sense,  is  not  found  in  Chaucer's  translation  in  any  of  the  MSS 
In  the  French  original  it  stands  thus  :—  "  Et  a  ce  respout  dame  Prudence 
'Certes,'  disVelle,  '  je  t'octroye  quo  de  vengence  vient  molt  do  maulx  et  dt 
biens,  mais  vengence  n'appartient  pas  a  un  chasrun,  fors  seulement  au» 
juges,  et  a  ceux  qui  ont  la  juridiction  sur  les  malfaitteurs.  Et  dil  plus 
que,'"  &c. 

«>  For  Senec  .  .  .  shrewes.  I  give  this  reading,  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt,  in 
stead  of  that  of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  lie  that  muster  is,  he  saith  tjood  to  n-proe- 
threwes;  which  neither  offers  any  apparent  sense,  nor  represents  the  French 
original,  "  Car  Seues^ue  dit,  Cellui  nuit  aux  »"»»IB  qui  espargne  lea  mauvii." 


TI7E  TALK  OF  MELIBEU8.  487 

hire  and  in  hire  witte.  For  Senek  saith  :  What  man  that 
is  norissched  by  fortune,  sche  niaketh  him  to  gret  a  fool. 
Now  Kith  the  ye  desire  and  axe  vengeaunce,  and  the  ven- 
geaunce  that  is  doon  after  the  lawe  and  byforno  the  juggo 
ne  liketh  yow  nought,  and  the  vengeaunce  that,  is  doon41 
in  hope  of  fortune,  is  perilous  and  uncerteyri,  thanue 
haveth  ye  noon  other  remedye.  but  for  to  have  recours 
unto  the  soveraigne  jugge,  that  vengith  alle  vilonies  and 
wronges  ;  and  he  schal  venge  yow,  after  that  himself  wit- 
nesseth,  where  as  he  saith  :  Leveth  the  vengeaunce  to  me, 
and  I  schal  yelde  it."  Melibeus  answerd :  "  If  I  ne  venge 
me  nought  of  the  vilonye  that  men  have  doon  unto  me,  I 
schal  sonnere  warne  hem  that  nan  doon  to  me  that  vil- 
onye, arid  alle  othere,  to  do  me  another  vilonye.  For  it  is 
writen :  If  thou  tak  no  vengeaunce  of  an  old  vilonye,  thou 
somnest  thin  adversarie  do  the  a  newe  vilonye.  And  also, 
for  my  suifraunce,  men  wolde  do  me  so  moche  vilonye, 
that  I  mighte  neither  bere  it  ne  susteyne  it ;  and  so  schulde 
I  be  put  over  lowe.  For  men  say,  in  moche  sufferynge 
schal  many  thinges  falle  unto  the,  whiche  thou  schalt 
nought  nowe  suffre."  "  Certes,"  quod  Prudence,  "I 
graunte  yow  wel,  that  over  mochil  sutfraunce  is  nought 
good,  but  yit  folwith  it  nought  therof,  that  every  persoue 
to  whom  men  doon  vilonye,  take  of  it  vengeaunce.  For  it 
appertieneth  and  longeth  al  oonly  to  the  jugges,  for  thay 
schul  venge  the  vilonyes  and  injuries ;  and  therefore  the 
auctoritees  that  ye  have  sayd  above  been  oonly  under- 
stonden  in  the  jugges ;  for  whan  thay  suffre  to  mochil  the 
wronges  and  the  vilonyes  that  ben  doon  withoute  punys- 
shyng,  thay  somne  not  a  man  oonly  to  doo  newe  wronges, 
but  they  comaunde  it.  Also  the  wise  man  saith  :  The 
jugge  that  correeteth  not  the  synnere,  comaundeth  him 
and  byddith  him  doon  another  synne.  And  the  jugges 
and  sovereignes  mighten  in  here  lond  so  mochil  suft'ren  of 
the  schrewes  and  mysdoeres,  that  thay  schulde  by  such 
suffraunoe,  by  proces  of  tyme,  wexen  of  suche  power  and 
might,  that  thay  schulde  put  out  the  jugges  and  the  sove- 
reignes  from  here  places,  and  atte  laste  do  hem  lese  hem 
lordschipes.  But  lete  us  now  putte,  that  ye  han  leve  to 
venge  yow ;  I  say  ye  ben  nought  of  might  ne  power  aa 
now  to  venge  you ;  for  if  ye  wolde  make  comparisoun  :m 
to  the  might  of  youre  adversaries,  ye  schul  le  fy  nde  in 
many  thinges,  that  I  have  i-schewed  yow  er  this,  that  here 

41  After  the  lawe  .  .  .  that  is  doon.  These  words  are  omitted  in  tlio  Il»rl. 
M».  by  »n  evident  error  of  the  scribe,  who  skipped  from  the  firit  doon  to  tka 
•econd.  They  hare  their  representative  in  the  original  French,  and  are  hei* 
given  from  tlio  Lauds.  Ms. 


438  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

jondicioun  is  better  than  youres,  and  therfore  say  I,  that 
vt  is  good  as  now,  that  ye  suffre  and  be  pacient. 

"  Forthermore  ye  knowe  that  after  the  coinurie  sawe,  it 
is  a  woodnesse,  a  man  to  stryve  with  a  strenger  or  a  moro 
mighty  man  than  him  selven  is  ;  and  for  to  stryve  with  a 
man  of  evene  strengthe,  that  is  to  say,  with  as  strong  a 
man  as  he  is,  it  is  peril ;  and  for  to  stryve  with  a  weykero, 
is  folye  ;  and  therfore  schulde  a  man  fie  stry  vynge  ai 
moche  as  he  mighte.  For  Salamon  seith  :  It  is  a  gret  wor. 
schipe,  a  man  to  kepe  him  fro  noyse  and  stryf.  And  if  ii 
90  bifalle  or  happe  that  a  man  of  gretter  might  and 
strengthe  than  thou  art,  do  the  grevaunce,  studie  and 
busye  the  rather  to  stille  the  same  grevaunce,  than  for  to 
/enge  the.  For  Senec  saith,  lie  putteth  him  in  a  grete 
peril  that  stryveth  with  a  gretter  man  than  he  him  selven 
is.  And  Catoun42  saith  :  If  a  man  of  heiher  estat  or  degre, 
or  more  mighty  then  thou,  do  the  anoye  or  grevaunce, 
suffre  him  ;  for  he  that  oones  don  the  a  grievauuce,  may 
another  tyme  relieve  the  and  helpe  the. 

"  Yit  sette  I  a  caas,  ye  have  both  might  and  licence  for 
to  venge  yow,  I  say  ther  ben  ful  many  thinges  that  schulde 
restreigne  yow  of  vengeaunce  takynge,  and  make  yow  to 
encline  to  suffre,  and  to  have  pacience  of  the  wronges  that 
han  ben  doon  to  yow.  First  and  forward,  ye  wol  considre 
the  defautes  that  been  in  youre  owne  persone,  for  whiche 
defautes  God  hath  suffred  yow  to  have  this  tribulacioun, 
as  I  have  sayd  yow  herbyfore.  For  the  poete  saith,  We 
oughten  paciently  to  suffre  the  tribulacioun  that  corneth 
to  us,  whan  that  we  thenken  and  consideren,  that  we  han 
deserved  to  have  hem.  And  seint  Gregorie  saith,  that 
whan  a  man  considereth  wel  the  nombre  of  his  defautes, 
and  of  his  synnes,  the  peynes  and  the  tribulaeiouns  that 
he  suff'ereth  semen  the  lasse  unto  him.  And  in  as  moche 
as  him  then  kith  his  synnes  the  more  hevy  and  grevous,  in 
so  moche  his  peyne  is  the  lighter  and  more  esier  unto 
him.  Also  ye  oughten  to  encline  and  bowe  your  herte,  to 
take  the  pacience  of  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Christ,  as  saith  seint 
Peter  in  his  Epistles.  Jhesu  Crist,  he  seith,  hath  suffred 
for  us,  and  given  ensample  unto  every  man  to  folwe  and 
sewe  him,  for  he  dede  never  synne,  ne  never  cam  vileyns 
worde  out  of  his  mouth.  Whan  men  cursed  him,  he 
cursed  hem  not;  and  whan  men  beete  him,  he  manased 
hem  not.  Also  the  grete  pacience  which  that  seintes  that 
been  in  Paradys  han  had  in  tribulaciouns  that  thay  have 

«  Catoun.    Lib.  iv.  (list.  40  :— 

"Cede  locum  Iseeus,  fortunae  cede  potentia: 
Laedere  qui  potuit,  pnxlesse  aliquando  valebit." 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  439 


had  and  suffred  withoute  desert  or  gult,  oughte  nioche 
stire  yow  to  pacience.  Forthermore,  ye  schuld  enforce 
yow  to  have  pacienoe,  consideringe  that  the  tribulaciouns 
of  this  world  but  litel  while  enduren,  and  soon  passed  ben 
and  goon,  and  the  joye  that  a  man  secheth  to  have  by 
pacience  in  tribulaciouns  is  perdurable  ;  after  that  the 
apostil  seith  in  his  Epistil  :  the  joye  of  God,  he  saith,  is 
perdurable,  that  is  to  say,  evermore  lastynge.  Also  troweth 
fcnd  believeth  stedefastly,  that  he  to  not  wel  norisched  and 
taught,  that  can  nought  have  pac;ence,  or  wil  nought  re- 
ceyve  pacience.  For  Salamon  saith,  that  the  doctrine  and 
the  witte  of  a  man  is  i-knowe  by  pacience.  And  in  another 
place  he  seith  :  He  that  hath  pacience  governeth  him  by 
gret  prudence.  And  the  same  Salamon  seith,  that  the 
wrathful  and  the  angry  man  maketh  noyses,  and  the 
pacient  man  attempereth  and  stilleth  him.  He  seith  also : 
It  is  more  worth  to  be  pacierit  than  for  to  be  right  strong. 
And  he  that  may  have  his  lordschipe  of  his  oughne  herte, 
is  more  worth  arid  more  to  preise  than  he  that  by  his  force 
and  by  his  strengthe  taketh  grete  citees.  And  therfore 
eaith  seint  Jame  in  his  Epistil,  that  pacience  is  a  gret  vertu 
of  perfeccioun." 

"  Certes,"  quod  Melibeus,  "  I  graunte  yow,  dame  Pru- 
dence, that  pacience  is  a  grete  vertue  of  perfeccioun  ; 43  but 
every  man  may  not  have  the  perfeccioun  that  ye  sekyn,  lie 
[  am  not  of  the  nombre  of  right  parfyte  men  ;  for  inyn 
iierte  may  never  be  in  pees,  unto  the  tyme  it  be  venged. 
And  al  be  it  so,  that  it  was  a  gret  peril  to  myne  enemyes  to 
don  me  a  vilonye  in  takirige  vengeaunce  upon  me,  yit 
tooken  thay  noon  heede  of  tke  peril,  but  fulfilden  hero 
wikked  desir  and  her  corrage  ;  and  therfore  me  thenketh 
men  oughten  nought  repreve  me,  though  I  putte  me  in  a 
litel  peril  for  to  venge  me,  and  though  I  do  a  gret  excesse, 
that  is  to  say,  that  I  venge  oori  outrage  by  another." 

"  A  !  "  quod  dame  Prudence,  "  ye  say  youre  will  and  as 
row  likith  ;  but  in  noon  caas  in  the  world  a  man  ne  schuldo 
nought  doon  outrage  ne  eicesse  for  to  venge  him.  For 
Cassidore  saith,  as  evel  doth  he  that  avengith  him  by 
outrage,  as  he  that  doth  the  outrage.  And  therfore  ye 
schul  venge  yow  after  the  ordre  of  right,  that  is  to  sayn,  by 
the  luwe,  arid  nought  by  excesse,  ne  by  outrage.  And  also 
if  ye  wil  venge  yow  of  the  outrage  of  youre  adversaries,  in 
other  maner  than  right  cornaundeth,  ye  synrien.  And 

43  Certes  .  .  ,  perfeccioun.  These  words  have  been  omitted  by  the  scrib* 
of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  whose  eye  ran  on  from  the  word  perfection*  which  closet 
the  preceding  paragraph  to  the  words  but  every  man,  etc-  They  are  he»« 
restoied  from  the  I.ansd.  MB. 


440  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

therfore  saith  Senec,  that  a  man  schal  never  venge 
fechrewednes  by  sehrewedries.  And  if  ye  say  that  right 
axeth  a  man  to  defende  violence  by  vyolence,  and  fightyng 
by  fightynge  ;  certes,  ye.  say  soth,  whan  the  defence  is 
doon  anoon  withouten  intervalle,  or  withouten  taryinge 
or  dilay,  for  to  defenden  him,  and  nought  for  to  venge  him. 
And  it  bihoveth  a  man  putte  such  attemperance  ii>  his 
defence,  that  men  have  no  cause  ne  matiere  to  repreven 
him,  that  defend ith  him,  of  excesse  and  outrage.  I'arde  ; 
ye  knowe  wel,  that  ye  make  no  defence  as  now  for  to 
defende  vow,  but  for  to  venge  yow  ;  and  so  semeth  it,  that 
ye  have  no  wilie  to  do  youre  wille  attemperelly ;  and 
therfore  me  thenkith  that  pacience  is  good.  For  Salamon 
saith,  that  he  that  is  not  pacient  schal  have  gret  harm," 
"  Certes,"  quod  Melibeus,  "  I  graunte  you  wel,  that  whan 
a  man  is  impacient  and  wroth  of  that  that  toucheth  him 
nought,  and  that  apperteineth  nought  to  him,  though  it 
harine  him  it  is  no  wonder.44  For  the  lawe  saith,  that  he 
is  coupable  that  entremettith  him  or  iriellith  him  with  such 
thing,  as  aperteyneth  not  unto  him.  Dan  Salamon  saith, 
He  that  entremetteth  him  of  the  noyse  or  stryf  of  another 
man,  is  lik  him  that  takith  the  straunge  hound45  by 
the  eeres  ;  for  right  as  he  that  takith  a  straunge  hound 
by  the  eeres  is  other  while  biten  with  the  hound,  right  in 
the  same  wise,  it  is  resoun  that  he  have  harm,  that  by  his 
impacience  melleth  him  of  the  noise  of  another  man,  where 
it  aperteyneth  not  to  him.  But  ye  schul  knowe  wel,  that 
this  dede,  that  is  to  sayn,  myn  disease  and  my  grief, 
toucheth  me  right  neigh.  And  therfore,  though  I  be 
wroth,  it  is  no  mervayle  ;  and  (savynge  your  grace)  I  can 
not  see  that  it  inighte  gretly  harme  me,  though  I  toke  ven- 
geaunce,  for  I  am  richer  and  more  mighty  than  myne 
enemyes  been  ;  and  wel  knowe  ye,  that  by  money  and  by 
havynge  of  grete  possessiouns,  ben  alle  the  thinges  of  this 
world  governede.  And  Salamon  saith,  that  alle  thinges 
obeyen  to  moneye." 

Whan  Prudence  had  herd  hire  housbond  avaunte  him 
of  his  richesse  and  of  his  moneye,46  dispraisynge  the  powef 
of  his  adversaries,  tho  sche  spak  and  sayde  in  this  wys» 

44  of  that  ...  no  wonder.    This  passage  is  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.,  but 
It  is  restored  from  the  Lands.  Ms.,  supported  by  the  French  original. 

45  the  straunye  houml.     The  word  straunge  is  omitted  in  the   Harl.  and 
Lansd.  Mss.,  the  latter  of  which  is  somewhat  confused  here.     It  is,  however, 
evidently  necessary  ;  the  French  has  "  le  chien  qui  ne  conguoiaV"    In  the 
next  linn  the  Harl  "Ms.  reads  the  strong  hound. 

46  Whan  J'rut/ence  .  .  .  his  moneye.    This  is  also  omitted  in  the  Harl.  MB. 
by  an  oversi  Jht  of  the  scribe,  who  passed  on  from  the  word  money*  ftl  the  end 
K  the  preceding  paragraph. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEU8.  441 

"  Certes.  deere  sire,  I  graunte  yow  that  ye  ben  riche  and 
mighty,  and  that  richesse  is  good  to  hem  that  wel  have 
geten  it,  and  that  wel  conne  use  it.  For  right  as  the  body 
of  a  man  may  not  be  withoute  the  soule,  no  more  may  a 
man  lyve  withoute  temperel  goodes,  and  by  richesse  may  a 
man  gete  him  greet  frendschipe.  And  therfore  saith  Pam- 
plu'lles:47  If  a  neethurdes  doughter,  he  saith,  be  riche,  scha 
aiay  cheese  of  a  thousand  men,  which  sche  wol  take  to  hir 
Uousbonde  ;  for  of  a  thousand  men  oon  wil  not  forsake  hir 
ae  refuse  hire.  And  this  Pamphilles  seith  also  :  If  chou  be 
right  happy,  that  is  to  sayn,  if  thou  be  right  riche,  thanne 
schalt  thou  fynde  a  gret  nombre  of  felawes  and  f.-ende^ ; 
and  if  thy  fortune  chaunge,  that  thou  waxe  pore,  fare  wel 
frendschipe,  for  thou  schalt  ben  aloone  withouteu  eny 
companye,  but  if  it  be  the  compaignye  of  pore  folk.  And 
yit  saith  this  Pamphillus  moreover,  that  they  that  ben 
thral  and'boride  of  linage,  schullen  ben  inaad  worthy  and 
noble  by  richesse.  And  right  so  as  by  richesse  ther  come 
many  goodes,  right  so  by  povert  comen  ther  many  harmes 
and  y vels  ;  for  grete  poverte  constreigrieth  a  man  to  doon 
many  yvels.48  And  therfore  clepeth  Cassidore  povert  the 
moder  of49  ruyne,  that  is  to  sayn,  the  moder  of  over- 
throwyng  or  fallynge  doun.  And  therfore  saith  Pieres 
Alphons  :  Oon  of  the  grettest  adversitcs  of  this  world,  ia 
whan  a  freeman  by  kyn  or  burthe  is  constreigned  by  povert 
to  eten  the  almes  of  his  encmyes.  And  the  same  seith 
Innocent  in  oon  of  his  bookes.  that  sorweful  and  unhappy 
is  the  condicioun  of  a  povere  begger,  for  if  he  axe  nought 
his  mete,  he*deyeth  for  hungir,  and  if  he  axe,  he  deyeth  for 
schame  ;  arid  algates  the  necessite  constreigneth  hyin  to 
axe.  And  therfore  saith  Salamon,  that  bettre  is  it  to  dey, 
than  to  have  such  povert.  And  as  the  same  Salamon 
saith  :  Bettir  is  to  deye  on  bitter  deth,  than  for  to  lyve  in 
such  f\  wyse. 

"By  these  reasouns  that  I  have  sayd  unto  yow,  and  by 
many  another  resoun  that  I  know  and  couthe  say,  I 
graunte  yow  that  richesses  ben  goode  to  hem  that  gete  hem 
wel  and  to  hem  that  hem  wel  usen  :  and  therfore  wol  J 
Bchewe  yow  how  ye  schulde  bere  yow  in  getyng  of  riches, 
arid  in  what  maner  \e  schulde  use  hem.  First,  ye  schulde 

47   I'amphillrs.    This  poem  has  already  been  mentioned  in  the  cote  on  line 
iH2'2      Tj  rwhitt  has  given  from  a  Bodleian  MB.  the  lines  here  alluded  to,— 

Dummodo  sit  divee  cujusdam  nata  bubulci, 

Ellgit  e  mille  quemlibet  ilia  virum,  etc. 

••  aiui  yvels  .  .  .  many  yvels.    The  pastago,  omitted  in  the  Hail.  M*.,  U 
rontorod  froi.i  ihu  leaned.  Mr*. 

w  l/tc  imxlor  of.    These  thre«  words  are  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Me.  by  M 
OT«T8igl>l  of  the  t*»;rlb«     The  originals  la  truer*  de»  crismeg,  mother  of  crlotee. 


442  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

get*  hem  withoute  gret  desir,  by  good  leysii,  sokyngly,  and 
nought  over  hastily  ;  for  a  man  that  is  to  desirynge  for  to 
gete  riches,  abandoneth  him  first  to  thefte  s,nd  to  alle 
othere  yveles.  And  therfore  saith  Salamon  :  Fie  that 
hastith  him  to  bisyly  to  waxe  riche,  schal  ben  noon  in- 
nocent. He  saith  also,  that  the  riches  that  hastily  cometh 
to  a  man,  soorie  and  lightly  goth  and  passeth  fro  a  man, 
but  that  richesse  that  cometh  alway  litel  and  litel,  waxeth 
alvray  and  multiplieth.  And,  sire,  ye  schal  gete  richess<§ 
by  youre  witte  and  by  youre  travayle,  unto  youre  profyt, 
and  that  withoute  wrong  or  harm  doynge  to  eny  other 
persone.  For  the  lawe  saith,  that  no  man  maketh  him 
self  riche,  that  doth  harm  to  another  Avight ;  that  is  to  say, 
that  nature  defendeth  and  forbedith  by  right,  that  no  man 
make  him  self  riche  unto  the  harm  of  another  persone. 
Tullius  saith,  that  no  sorwe  ne  drede  of  doth,  ne  no  thing 
that  may  falle  to  a  man,  is  so  mocbe  ageirist  nature,  as  a 
man  to  encresce  his  oughne  profyt  to  the  harm  of  anothei 
man.  And  though  the  grete  men  and  the  riche  men  gete 
richesse  moi-e  lightly  than  thou,  yit  schalt  thou  not  be  ydil 
ne  slowe  to  thy  profyt,  for  thou  schalt  in  alle  wise  flee 
ydilnes.  For  Salamon  saith,  that  ydelnesse  techith  a  man 
to  do  many  yveles.  And  the  same  Salamon  saith,  that  he 
that  travaileth  and  besieth  him  to  tilye  the  lond,  schal  ete 
breed  j  but  he  that  is  ydil,  and  casteth  him  to  no  busynesse 
ne  occupacioun,  schal  falle  into  povert,  and  deye  for  hun- 
ger. And  he  that  is  ydel  and  slough,  can  never  fynde  him 
tyme  for  to  do  his  profyt.  For  ther  is  a  versifiour  saith 
the  ydel  man  excuseth  him  in  wynter,  bycause  of  the  grete 
colde,  and  in  somer  by  enchesoun  of  the  grete  hete.  For 
these  causes,  saith  Catoun,  waketh,50  and  enclineth  yow 
nought  over  moche  for  to  slepe,  for  over  moche  reste  nor- 
ischeth  and  causeth  many  vices.  And  therfore  saith 
seint  Jerom :  Doth  some  goode  deedes,  that  the  devei, 
which  that  is  oure  enemy,  ne  fynde  yow  unoccupied  ; 
for  the  devel  ne  takith  not  lightly  unto  his  werkes 
Buche  as  he  fyndeth  occupied  in  goode  werkes.  Tha-nne 
thus  in  getynge  of  riches  ye  moot  flee  ydelnesse.  And 
afterward  ye  schul  use  the  richesses,  the  whiche  ye  han 
geten  by  youre  witte  and  by  youre  travaile,  in  such  a 
maner,  that  men  holde  yow  not  skarce  ne  to  sparynge,  ne 
to  fool  large,  that  is  to  say,  over  large  a  spender.  Foi 
right  as  men  blamen  an  averous  man,  bycause  of  his  skar- 
Bete  and  chyncherie,  in  the  same  manere  is  he  to  blame, 

60  tcaketh.  "  I  can  find  nothing  nearer  to  this  in  Cato  than  the  maxim, 
lib.  iii.  diet.  7,  'Segnitiem  fugitp.'  For  the  quotations  from  the  same  autJioi 
a  few  lines  below,  §ee  lib.  iv.  dist.  17,  and  lib.  iii.  dlst.  'a.-  -'I'yrwhUt. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEU8. 


that  ependeth  over  largely.  And  therfore  saith  Catoun  : 
tJse,  ho  saith,  thi  richesses  that  thou  hast  y-geten  in  such  a 
manere,  that  men  have  no  matier  ne  cause  to  calle  the 
neither  wrecche  ne  chynche  ;  for  it  is  gret  schame  to  a  man 
to  have  a  pover  herte  and  a  riche  purse.  lie  saith  also  : 
The  goodes  that  thou  hast  i-geten,  use  hem  by  mesure,  that 
is  to  say,  spende  hem  mesurably  j  for  thay  that  folily 
wasten  and  sponden  tlie  goodes  that  thay  have,  whan  thay 
have  no  more  propre  of  here  oughne,  thay  schape  hem  to 
take  the  goodes  of  another  man.  I  say  thanne  ye  schul 
flee  avarice,  usynge  youre  richesse  in  such  manere,  that 
men  seyn  nought  that  youre  richesse51  be  buried,  but  that 
ye  have  hem  in  youre  might  and  in  youre  weldynge.  For 
the  wise  man  reproveth  the  averous  man,  and  saith  thus  in 
tuo  versus  :  Wherto  and  why  burieth  a  man  his  goodes  by 
his  gret  avarice,  and  knowith  wel,  that  rieedes  most  he 
deye,  fortieth  is  the  ende  of  every  man,  as  in  this  present 
lif  ?  and  for  what  cause  or  enchesoun  joyneth  he  him,  or 
knetteth  him  so  fast  unto  his  goodes,  that  alle  his  wittes 
mowe  nought  dissever  him,  or  departe  him  fro  his  goodes, 
and  knowith  wel,  or  oughte  knowe  wel,  that  whan  he  is 
deed,  he  schal  no  thing  bere  with  him  out  of  this  world  ? 
And  therfore  seith  seirit  Austyn,  that  the  averous  man  is 
likned  unto  helle,  that  the  more  that  it  swolwith,  the  more 
it  desireth  to  swolwe  and  devoure.  And  as  wel  as  ye  wolde 
eschewe  to  be  cleped  an  averous  man  or  chinche,  as  wel 
schulde  ye  kepe  yow  and  governe  yow,  in  such  a  wise,  that 
men  clepe  yow  nought  fool  large.  Therfore  saith  Tullius  : 
The  goodes,  he  saith,  of  thin  hous  schulde  nought  ben 
hidde  ne  kepte  so  clos,  but  that  thay  might  ben  opened  by 
pite  and  by  bonairete  ; &2  that  is  to  sayn,  to  give  hein  part 
that  han  gret  rieede  ;  ne  thy  goodes  schul  not  be  so  open 
to  be  every  mannes  goodes. 

"  Aftirward,  in  getynge  of  youre  richesses,  and  in  usy 
hem,  ye  schul  alway  have  thre  thinges  in  youre  herte,  i 
is  to  say,  oure  lord  God,  conscience,  and  good  name.     Fii—, 
ye  schul  have  God  in  youre  herte,  and  for  no  riches  y« 
•eh til  in  no  manere  doo  no  thing  which  might  displese  God 
that   is  your  creatour  and    youre  maker.      For   after  the 
word  of  Salamon,  it  is  better  to  have  litil  good  with  love  of 
God,  than  to  have  mochil  good  and  tresor,  and  lese  the 
love  of  his  lord  God.     And  the  prophete  saith  :  Better  is  to 


444  THE  CANTEEBUBT  TALES. 


ben  a  good  man,  and  have  litel  good  and  tresore,  than  to 
ben  holden  a  schrewe,  and  have  gret  riches.  And  yit  say 
I  forthermore,  that  ye  schuln  alway  doon  youre  businesse 
to  gete  yow  riches,  so  that  ye  gete  hem  with  good  con- 
science. And  the  apostil  seith,  ther  nys  thing  in  this  world 
of  which  we  schuln  have  so  gret  joye,  as  whan  cure  con- 
science bereth  us  good  witnes.  And  the  wise  man  saith  : 
The  substaunce  of  a  man  is  ful  good,  whan  synne  is  not  in 
his  conscience.  Afterward,  in  getynge  of  youre  richesses, 
and  in  usynge  of  hem,  you  most  have  gret  busynesse  and 
gret  diligence,  that  youre  good  name  be  alway  kept  and 
conserved.  For  Salamon  saith :  Better  it  is,  and  more 
aveylith  a  man,  for  to  have  a  good  name,  than  for  to  have 
gret  riches.  And  therfore  he  saith  in  another  place  :  Do 
gret  diligence,  saith  Salamon,  in  kepynge  of  thy  frend,  and 
of  thy  good  name,  for  it  schal  lenger  abyde  with  the,  than 
eny  tresor,  be  it  never  so  precious.  And  certes,  he  schulde 
nought  be  cleped  a  gentil  man,  that  after  God  and  good 
conscience,  alle  thinges  left,  ne  doth  his  diligence  and 
busynesse,  to  kepe  his  good  name.  And  Cassidore  saith, 
that  it  is  signe  of  a  good  man  and  a  gentil,  or  of  a  gentil 
herte,  whan  a  man  loveth  or  desireth  to  have  a  good  name. 
And  therfore  saith  seint  Au gusty n,  that  ther  ben  tuo 
thinges  that  ben  necessarie  and  needful  j  and  that  is  good 
sonscience  and  good  loos  ;  that  is  to  sayn,  good  conscience 
in  thin  oughne  persone  in-ward.  and  good  loos  of  thin 
neghebor  out- ward.  And  he  that  trusteth  him  so  moche  in 
his  good  conscience,  that  he  despiseth  and  settith  at  nought 
his  good  name  or  loos,  and  rekketh  nought  though  he  kepe 
not  his  good  name,  nys  but  a  cruel  churl. 

"  Sire,  now  have  I  schewed  yow  how  ye  schulde  doon  in 
getyng  of  good  and  riches,  and  how  ye  schulde  use  hem  ;  I 
see  wel  that  for  the  trust  that  ye  have  in  youre  riches,  ye 
wolde  meve  werre  and  bataile.  I  counseile  you  that  ye 
bygynne  no  werre  in  trust  of  youre  riches,  for  thay  suffisen 
oot  werres  to  mayntene.  And  therfore  saith  a  philosophre  : 
That  man  that  desireth  and  wol  algate  have  werre,  schal 
never  have  sufficeaunce  ;  for  the  richere  that  he  is,  the 
gretter  dispenses  most  he  make,  if  he  wol  have  worschipe 
or  victorie.  And  Salamon  saith  :  The  gretter  riches  that  a 
man  hath,  the  moo  despendours  he  hath.  And,  deere  sire, 
il  be  it  so  that  for  youre  riches  ye  mo  we  have  moche  folk, 
yit  byhoveth  it  not  ne  it  is  not  good  to  bygynne  werre,  ther 
as  ye  may  in  other  maner  have  pees  unto  youre  worschipe 
and  profyt ;  for  the  victorie  of  batailles  that  ben  in  this 
world,  lith  not  in  gret  nombre  or  multitude  of  poeple,  ne 
in  vertu  of  man,  but  it  lith  in  the  wille  and  in  the  hond  of 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  445 


oure  lord  God  almighty.  And  Judas  Machabous,  which 
was  Goddes  knight,  whan  he  schulde  fighte  ageinst  his  ad- 
versaries, that  hadde  a  gretter  nombre  and  a  gretter  mul- 
titude of  folk  and  strengere  than  was  the  poeple  of  tliis 
Machabe,  yit  he  reconforted  his  litel  poeple,  and  sayde 
ryght  in  this  wise :  As  lightly,  quod  he,  may  oure  lord  God 
almighty  give  victory  to  fewe  folk,  as  to  many  folk ; 88  for 
the  v'.ctorie  of  batailles  cometh  nought  by  the  grete  nombre 
of  poeple,  but  it  cometh  fro  oure  lord  God  of  heven.  And, 
lore  sire,  for  as  moche  as  ther  is  no  man  certeyn,  if  it  be 
frorllii  that  God  give  him  victorie  or  nought,  after  that 
that  Salamon  saith,  therfore  every  man  schulde  gretly 
drede  werres  to  bygynne.  And  bycause  that  in  batailles 
falle  many  mervayles  and  periles,  and  happ^th  other 
while,  that  as  soone  is  the  grete  man  slayn  as  the  litel 
man  ;  and,  as  it  is  writen  in  the  secouride  book  of  Kynges, 
the  deedes  of  batayles  be  aventurous,  and  no  thing  cer- 
teyn, for  as  lightly  is  oon  hurt  with  a  spere  as  another  ; 
and  for  ther  is  gret  peril  in  werre,  therfore  schulde  a  man 
flee  and  eschewe  werre  in  as  moche  as  a  man  may  goodly. 
For  Salamon  saith  :  He  that  loveth  peril,  schal  falle  in 
peril." 

After  that  daine  Prudens  hadde  spoke  in  this  rnaner, 
Melibe  answerde  and  sayde:  "  I  se  wel,  dame,  that  by 
youre  faire  wordes  and  by  youre  resouns,  that  ye  have 
schewed  me,  that  the  werre  liketh  yow  no  thing  ;  but  I 
have  not  yit  herd  youre  counseil,  how  I  schall  doo  in  this 
neede."  "  Certes,"  quod  sche,  "I  counseile  yow  that  ye 
accorde  with  youre  adversaries,  and  that  ye  have  pees  with 
hem.  For  seint  Jame  saith  in  his  Epistles,  that  by  con- 
cord and  pees,  the  smale  ryches  wexen  grete,  and  by  de- 
baat  and  discord  the  gret  richesses  fallen  doun.  And  ye 
knowe  wel,  that  oon  of  the  moste  grettest  and  soveraign 
thinges  that  is  in  this  world,  is  unite  and  pees.  And  ther- 
fore laith  oure  lord  Jhesu  Crist  to  his  aposteles  in  this  wise  : 
Wel  happy  and  blessed  be  thay  that  loven  and  purchaceu 
peas,  for  thay  ben  called  children  of  God."  6*  "  A  !  "  quod 
k£elibe,  "  now  se  I  wel,  that  ye  loven  not  myne  honour,  ne 
ay  worschipe.  Ye  knowe  wel  that  myne  adversaries  han 
bygonne  this  debate  and  brige  by  here  outrage,  and  ye  see 
ipel  that  thay  require  ne  praye  me  not  of  pees,  ne  thay 
askyn  nought  to  be  recounseild  ;  wol  ye  thaune  that  1 

M  as  to  many  folk.  These  word*  are  omitted  lu  the  Hurl.  Ms.,  evidently 
by  a  mere  overnight  of  the  scribe. 

54  God.  The  Marl.  Ms.  roads  Crist ,•  but  the  reading  adopted  in  the  tex«i 
\»  not  only  supported  by  the  l.ansd.  Mn.  and  the  original  t>ench,  but  by  th* 
word*  of  St.  Matthew  v.  9  :  "  BMHU  paciiici,  ijuoniamyilii  Dvi  vocabuiitur." 


446  THE  CANTEEBURY  TALES. 

goo  and  nieke  me  unto  hem,  and  crie  hem  merey :  For 
eothe  that  were  not  ruy  worschipe  ;  for  right  as  men  soyn 
that  over  gret  pryde  erigendreth  dispisyng,  so  fareth  it  by 
to  gret  humblete  or  mekenes."  Thanne  bygan  dame  Pru 
dence  to  make  semblant  of  wraththe,  and  sayde  :  "  Certes, 
«ire,  save  youre  grace,  I  love  youre  honour  and  youre  profyt, 
as  I  doo  myn  owne,  and  ever  have  doon  ;  ye  ne  mowe 
noon  other  seyn  ;  and  yit  if  I  hadde  gayd,  ye  scholde  have 
purchaced  pees  and  the  reconciliacioun,  I  ne  hadde  not 
moche  mystake  in  me,  ne  seyd  amys.  For  the  wise  man 
saith  :  The  discencioun  bigynneth  by  another  man,  and  the 
reconsilynge  bygynneth  by  thy  self.  And  the  prophete 
eaith  :  Flee  schame  and  schrewednesse  and  doo  goodnesse  ; 
seeke  pees  and  folwe  it,  as  moche  as  in  the  is.  Yet  seith 
he  not,  that  ye  schul  rather  pursewe  to  youre  adversaries 
for  pees,  than  thei  schul  to  yow  ;  for  I  knowe  wel  that  ye 
be  so  hard-herted,  that  ye  wil  doo  no  thing  for  me  ;  and 
Salamon  saith  :  He  that  is  over  hard-herted,  atte  laste  he 
schal  myshappe  and  mystyde." 

Whan  Melibe  had  seyn  dame  Prudence  make  seni- 
blaunce  of  wraththe,  he  sayde  in  this  wise  :  "  Dame,  I  prav 
yow  that  ye  be  not  displesed  of  thinges  that  I  say,  for  ye 
knoweth  wel  that  I  am  angry  and  wroth,  and  that  is  ne 
wonder  ;  and  thay  that  ben  wroth,  wot  not  wel  what  thaj 
doon,  ne  what  thay  say.  Therf ore  the  prophete  saith,  that 
troublit  even  haire  no  cleer  sight.  But  sayeth  and  coun- 
saileth  me  forth  as  yow  liketh,  for  I  am  redy  to  doo  right 
as  ye  wol  desire.  And  if  ye  reprove  me  of  my  folye,  1  am 
ths  more  holde  to  love  yow  and  to  prayse  yow.  For  Sala- 
mon saith,  that  he  that  repreveth  him  that  doth  folie,  he 
schal  fynde  gretter  grace  than  he  that  deceyveth  him  by 
swete  wordes."  Thanne  sayde  dame  Prudence  :  "  I  make  no 
semblarit  of  wraththe  ne  of  anger,  but  for  youre  grete 
profyt.  For  Salamon  saith  :  He  is  more  worth  that  reprov- 
eth  or  chydeth  a  fool  for  his  folie,  schewynge  him  semblant 
of  wraththe,  than  he  that  supporteth  him  and  prayseth 
him  in  his  mysdoyng,  and  laugheth  at  his  folie.  And  this 
same  Salamon  saith  afterward,  that  by  the  sorweful  visage 
of  a  man,  that  is  to  sayii,  by  sory  and  hevy  countenaunce 
of  a  man,  the  fool  corretteth  himself  and  ameiideth." 
Tluinne  sayde  Melibeus  :  "  I  schal  not  conne  answere  to  sc 
many  faire  resouns  as  ye  putten  to  me  and  schewen  ;  say- 
eth schortly  youre  wille  and  youre  counseil,  and  I  am  al 
redy  to  fuliille  and  perfourme  it." 

Thaniie  daiue  Prudence  discovered  al  hire  counsail  and 
hire  will  unto  him  and  sayde  :  "  I  counseile  yow,"  quod 
»che,  "  above  alle  thinges,  that  ye  make  pees  bitwen  Uod 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEU8.  447 


and  yow,  and  beth  reconsiled  unto  him  and  to  his  grace,  for 
as  I  have  sayd  yow  herbiforn,  God  hath  suffred  yow  have 
this  tribulacioun  and  disease55  for  youre  synnes  ;  and  if 
ye  do  as  I  say  yow,  God  wol  sende  youre  adversaries  unto 
yow,  and  make  hern  falle  at  youre  feet,  al  redy  to  doo  youre 
wille  and  youre  comaundment.  For  Salamon  saith  :  Whan 
the  condicioun  of  a  man  is  plesant  and  likyng  to  God,  he 
chaungeth  the  hertes  of  the  mannes  adversaries,  and  con- 
Ptreigneth  hem  to  biseke  hem  of  pees  and  of  grace.  And  1 
pray  yow  let  me  speke  with  youre  adversaries  in  priv^ 
place,  for  thay  schul  not  knowe  it  by  youre  wille  or  youro 
assent;56  arid  tharine,  whan  I  knowe  here  wille  and  here 
entent,  I  may  counseile  jrow  the  more  seurly." 

"  Dame,"  quod  Melibeus,  "  doth  youre  wille  and  youre 
likyng,  for  I  putte  me  holly  in  youre  disposicioun  and  ordi 
naunce."  Thanrie  dame  Prudence,  whan  sche  seih  the 
good  wille  of  hir  housbond,  sche  delibered  and  took  avis 
by  hir  self,  thenkynge  how  sche  mighte  bringe  this  neede 
unto  good  conclusioun  and  to  a  good  ende.  And  whan 
sche  saugh  hire  tyme,  sche  sente  for  these  adversaries  to 
come  unto  hire  into  a  prive  place,  and  schewed  wysly  unto 
hein  the  grete  goodes  that  comen  of  pees,  and  the  grete 
harmes  arid  perils  that  ben  in  werre  ;  and  sayde  to  hem, 
in  goodly  manere,  how  that  hem  aughte  to  have  gret  re- 
pentaunce  of  the  injurie  and  wrong  that  thay  hadde  doon 
to  Meliue  hire  lord,  and  unto  hire  and  hire  doughter.  And 
whan  thay  herden  the  goodly  wordes  of  dame  Prudence, 
they  were  tho  surprised  and  ravyssched,  and  hadden  so  gret 
joye  of  hire,  that  wonder  was  to  telle.  "A  lady!  "  quod 
thay,  "  ye  have  schewed  unto  us  the  blessyng  of  swetnes, 
after  the  sawe  of  David  the  prophete  ;  for  the  recounsilyng, 
which  we  be  nought  worthy  to  have  in  no  manere,  but  we 
oughten  require  it  with  gret  contricioun  and  humilite, 
yo  of  youre  grete  goodnes  have  presented  unto  us.  ISow 
we  se  wel,  that  the  science  of  Salamon  is  ful  trewe  :  he 
saith,  that  swete  wordes  multiplien  and  encrescen  frendes, 
and  maken  schrewes  to  ben  deboriaireand  meke.  Certes," 
quod  thay,  "  we  putten  oure  deode,  and  al  oure  matier  and 
cause,  al  holly  in  youre  good  wille,  arid  ben  redy  to  obeye 
to  the  speche  and  to  the  comatmdement  of  my  lord  Meh'be. 
And  therfore,  deere  and  benigne  lady,  we  pray  yow  and 
byseke  yow,  as  meekely  as  we  conne  and  may,  that  it  like 

*  Tribulacioun  and  disease.  The  Harl.  Ms.  omits  the  two  first  word*, 
which  *re  given  from  the  Lands.  Ms.  Tho  French  original  has  ceste  tribute*- 
e+m  only. 

88  /'or  thuy  schul  not  knowe  .  .  .  youre  assent.  "Sans  faire  Kmblaut  qtu 
oe  viengne  do  voetre  cou8euteuieut.'r 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES 


to  yowre  grete  goodnes  to  fulfille  in  deede  youre  goodliche 
wordes.  For  we  considere  and  knowleche  wel  that  we 
have  offended  and  greved  my  lord  Melibe  out  of  resoun 
and  out  of  inesure,  so  ferforth  that  we  ben  nought  of 
power  to  make  his  amendes  ;  and  therfore  we  oblie  us  and 
bynde  us  and  oure  frendes,  for  to  doo  al  his  wille  and  his 
comaandmentz.  But  pevaventure  he  hath  such  hevynes 
»nd  such  wraththe  to  usward,  bycause  of  oure  offence,  that 
he  wol  enjoyne  us  such  peyne  as  we  mow  not  bere  rie  sus- 
teyne  ;  and  therfore,  nob' e  lady,  we  biseke  to  youre  worn- 
manly  pite  to  take  such  avysement  in  this  neede,  that  we, 
ne  oure  frendes,  ben  not  disherited  and  destroyed  thurgh 
oure  folyc."  "  Certes,"  quod  dame  Prudence,  "  it  is  an 
hard  thing,  and  right  a  perilous,  that  a  man  put  him  al 
outrely  in  the  arbitracioun  and  juggement  and  the  might 
and  power  of  his  enemyes.  For  Salamon  saith :  Leeveth 
and  giveth  credence  to  that  that  I  schal  say  :  I  say,  quod 
he,  geve  poeple  and  governours  of  holy  chirche,67  to  thy 
sone,  to  thi  wyf,  to  thy  frend,  ne  to  thy  brother,  ne  geve 
thou  never  might  ne  niaystry  of  thy  body,  whil  thou  lyv- 
est.  Now,  sith  he  defendith  that  a  man  schulde  not  give 
to  his  brother,  ne  to  his  frend,  the  might  of  his  body,  by  a 
stronger  resoun  he  defendeth  and  forbeditk  a  man  to  give 
his  body  to  his  enemye.  But  natheles,  I  counseile  yow 
that  ye  mystruste  nought  nr/  lord ;  for  I  wot  wel  and 
knowe  verraily,  that  he  is  debonaire  and  meke,  large,  cur- 
teys,  and  no  thing  desirous  ne  covey tous  of  good  ne  rich- 
esse  :  for  there  is  no  thing  in  this  world  that  he  desireth, 
save  oonly  worschipe  and  honour.  Forthermore  I  kriowe, 
and  am  right  seure,  that  he  wol  no  thing  doo  in  this  neede 
withoute  counsail  of  me  ;  and  I  schal  so  worche  in  this 
cause,  that  by  the  grace  of  oure  lord  God  ye  schul  be  re- 
counsiled  unto  us."  Thanne  sayde  thay,  with  oon  voys  : 
"  Worschipful  lady,  we  putte  us  and  oure  goodes  al  fully 
in  youre  wille  and  disposicioun,  and  ben  redy  to  come, 
what  day  that  it  like  yow  and  unto  youre  noblesse  to 
limite  us  or  assigne  us,  for  to  make  oure  obligacioun  and 
bond,  as  strong  as  it  liketh  to  youre  goodnes,  that  we  uiowe 
fulfille  the  wille  of  you  and  of  my  lord  Melibe."  Whan  dame 
Prudence  had  herd  the  answeresof  thise  men,sche  bad  hem 
go  agayn  pryvely,  and  ache  retourned  to  hjr  lord  Melibe,  and 
tolde  him  how  sche  fond  his  adversaries  ful  repentant, 

"  I  tay,  quod  he,  geve  poeple  and  governowt  of  holy  chirehe.  These  wordi 
are  not  found  in  the  Lansa.  Ms.,  and  are  omitted  by  Tyrwhitt.  They  aro 
(toufused  ;  but  the  word  lietd  or  ear  appears  to  be  omitted  after  yeve.  The 
French  has,  "  Car  Salmon  dit,  o>e/,  moy,  distril,  toub  psuples,  toutes  gens  et 
pouveriicurb  de  gluire,  A  ton  lilz."  &c. 


TBE  TALE  OF  MELfBEVS.  449 


knowlechinge  ful  lowely  here  synnes  and  trespasses,  and 
how  thay  were  redy  to  suffre  alle  peyne,  requiring  and 
praying  him  of  mercy  and  pito. 

Thanne  saide  Melibeus,  "  He  is  wel  worthy  to  have  par- 
doun  and  forgevenes  of  his  syrine,  that  excusith  not  his 
synne,  but  kuowlecheth  and  repentith  him,  axinge  indul- 
gence, For  Senek  saith :  Ther  is  the  remissiouri  and  for- 
gevenesse,  wher  as  the  corifessioun  is  j  for  confessiouii  if 
neighebor  to  innocence.  And  he  saith  in  another  place. 
He  that  hath  schame  of  his  synne,  knowlechith  it.  And 
therefore  I  assente  and  conferme  me  to  have  pees,  but  it  is 
good  that  we  doo  it  nought  withoute  assent  and  the  wille 
of  oure  frendes."  Thanne  was  Prudence  right  glad  and 
jolyf,  and  sayde:  "  Certes,  sire,'"  quod  sche,  "ye  ben  wel 
and  goodly  avysed  ;  for  right  as  by  the  counsail  and  as- 
sent and  help  of  youre  freiides,  ye  have  be  stired  to  venge 
yow  and  make  werre,  right  so  withoute  here  counseilschul 
ye  nought  acorde  yow  ne  have  pees  with  youre  adversaries. 
For  the  lawe  saith  :  Ther  nys  no  thing  so  good  by  way  of 
kinde,  as  thing  to  be  unbounde  by  him  that  it  was  bounde." 
And  thanne  dame  Prudence,  withoute  delay  or  taryinge, 
sente  anoon  messageres  for  here  kyn  and  for  here  olde 
frendes,  whiche  that  were  trewe  arid  wyse ;  and  told  hem 
by  ordre,  in  the  pi-esence  of  Melibe.  of  this  matier,  as  it  is 
above  expressed  and  declared  ;  arid  praide  hem  that  thay 
wolde  give  here  avys  and  counseil  what  best  were  to  doon 
in  this  matiere.  And  whan.  Melibeus  freiides  hadde  take 
here  avys  and  deliberacioun  of  the  forsayde  matier,  and 
hadden  examyned  it  by  greet  besynes  and  gret  diligence, 
they  gafe  him  ful  counsail  to  have  pees  and  reste,  and  that 
Melibeus  schulde  with  good  hert  resceyve  his  adversaries  to 
forgivenes  and  mercy. 

Anil  whan  dame  Prudence  had  herd  thassent  of  hirlord 
Melibeus,  and  counseil  of  his  freiides  accorde  with  hire  wille 
and  hire  enteiicioun,  sche  was  wonderly  glad  in  herte,  and 
sayde:  "Ther  is  an  olde  proverbe  that  saith,  the  good- 
nesse  that  thou  maist  do  this  day  abyde  not  lie  delaye  it 
nought  unto  to  inorwe  ;  and  therfore  I  counseile  yow  ye 
sende  youre  messageres,  whiche  that  ben  discrete  and  wise, 
unto  youre  adversaries,  tellynjre  hem  on  youre  bi halve, 
that  if  thay  wol  trete  of  pees  and  of  accord,  that  thay 
schape  hem  withoute  dilay  or  taryinge  to  come  unto  us." 
Which  thing  was  parformed  in  dede  ;  and  whan  these  tres- 
pasours  and  repentynge  folk  of  here  folies,  that  is  to  sayn, 
the  adversaries  of  Melibi.-,  hadden  herd  waat  the  messan- 
geres  sayden  unto  hem,  thay  were  right  glad  and  jolif,  and 
auswerdeu  ful  mekely  and  beniguely,  yeldyng  graces  and 


450  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


thankinges  to  here  lord  Melibe,  and  to  al  his  compaignye  ; 
and  schope  hem  withoute  delay  to  go  with  the  messangeres, 
and  obeye  hem  to  the  comaundeuient  of  here  lord  MeHbe. 
Arid  right  anoon  thay  token  here  way  to  the  court  of 
Melibe,  and  token  with  hem  some  of  here  trewe  frendes,  to 
make  faith  for  hem,  and  for  to  ben  here  borwes.  And 
whan  thay  were  eomeri  to  the  presence  of  Melibeus,  he  seyde 
hem  thise  wordes :  "  It  stondith  thus,'''  quod  Melibeus, 
"  and  soth  it  is,  that  ye  causeles,  and  withouten  skile  and 
resoun,  have  doon  gret  injuries  and  wronges  tome,  and  to 
my  wyf  Prudence,  and  to  iny  doughter  also,  for  ye  have 
entred  into  myn  hous  by  violence,  and  have  doon  such  out- 
rage, that  alle  men  knowe  wel  that  ye  have  deserved  the 
deth  ;  and  therfore  wil  I  knowe  and  wite  of  yow,  whether 
you  wol  putte  the  punyschment  and  the  chastisement  and 
the  vengeaunce  of  this  outrage,  in  the  wille  of  me  and  of 
iny  wyf,  dame  Prudence,  or  ye  wil  not."  Thanne  the 
wisest  of  hem  thre  answerde  for  hem  alle,  and  sayde  : 
"  Sire,"  quod  he,  "  we  knowe  wel,  that  we  be  unworthy  to 
come  to  the  court  of  so  gret  a  lord  and  so  worthy  as  ye  be, 
for  wre  han  so  gretly  mystake  us,  and  have  offendid  and 
giltid  in  such  a  wise  ageins  youre  heighe  lordschipe,  that 
trewely  we  have  deserved  the  deth.  But  yit  for  the  greete 
goodnes  and  debonairete  that  al  the  world  witnesseth  of 
youre  persone,  we  submitten  us  to  the  excellence  and  be- 
nignite  of  youre  gracious  lordschipe,  and  ben  redy  to  obeye 
to  alle  youre  comaundementz,  bisechynge  yow  that  of  youre 
merciable  pite  ye  wol  considre  our  grete  repentaunce  and 
lowe  submissioun,  and  graunte  us  forgivenes  of  oure  out- 
rage, trespas,  and  offence.  For  wel  we  kriowen,  that  youre 
liberal  grace  and  mercy  strechen  forthere  into  goodnesse 
than  doth  oure  outrage,  gilt,  and  trespas,  into  wikkednes  ; 
al  be  it  that  cursedly  and  dampnably  wehaveagilt  ageinst 
youre  highe  lordschipe."  Thanne  Melibe  took  hem  up  fro 
the  ground  ful  benignely,  and  rescey ved  here  obligaciouns, 
and  here  bondes,  by  here  othes  upon  here  plegges  and 
borwes,  and  assigned  hem  a  certeyn  day  to  retourne  unto 
his  court  for  to  accepte  and  recey  ve  the  sentence  and  jug- 
gement  that  Melibu  wolde  comaunde  to  be  doon  on  hem, 
by  these  causes  aforn  sayde  ;  which  thing  ordeyned,  every 
man  retourned  home  to  his  hous.  And  whan  that  dame 
Prudence  saugh  hire  tyme,  sche  freyned  and  axed  hire  lord 
Melibe,  what  vengeance  he  thoughte  to  take  upon  his  ad- 
versaries. To  which  Melibeus  answerd  and  saide  :  "  Cer- 
tes,''  quod  he,  "  I  thenke  and  purpose  me  fully  to  des- 
herite  hem  of  al  that  ever  thay  have,  and  for  to  putte  hem 
in  exil  for  evermore." 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  451 


"Certes,"  quod  dame  Prudence,  "this  were  a  cruel 
sentence,  and  niochil  ageinst  resoun.  For  ye  ben  riche 
y-nough,  and  have  noon  neede  of  other  mennes  good  ;  and 
ye  miighte  lightly  gete  yow  a  coveitous  name,  -which  is  a 
vicious  tiling,  and  oughte  to  ben  eschewed  of  every  man  ; 
for  after  the  sawe  of  thapostil,  covetise  is  roote  of  alle 
harmes.  And  therfore  it  were  bettre  for  yow  to  lese  so 
moche  good  of  youre  oughne,  than  for  to  take  of  here  good 
in  this  manere.  For  bettir  it  is  to  lese  good  with  worschipe, 
than  it  is  to  wynne  good  with  vilonye  and  echame.  And 
every  man  oughte  to  do  his  diligence  and  his  busynesse,  to 
gete  him  a  good  name.  And  yit  schal  he  nought  oonly 
busie  him  in  kepinge  of  his  good  name,56  but  he  schulde  en- 
force him  alway  to  do  som  thing,  by  which  he  may  re- 
no  vele  his  good  name  ;  for  it  is  writen,  that  the  olde  goode 
loos  of  a  man  is  soone  goon  and  passed,  whan  it  is  not 
newedne'renoveled.  And  as  touehirige  that  ye  sayn,  that 
ye  wol  exile  youre  adversaries,  that  thinketh  me  niochil 
ageinst  resoun,  and  out  of  mesure,  considered  the  power 
that  thay  han  gyve  to  yow  upon  here  body  and  on  hem 
self.  And  it  is  writen,  that  he  is. worthy  to  lese  his  privel- 
ege,  that  mysuseth  the  might  and  the  power  that  is  geveto 
him.  Arid  yit  I  sette  the  caas,  ye  might  enjoyne  hem  that 
peyne  by  right  and  lawe  (which  I  trowe  ye  mow  nought 
do),  I  .say,  ye  mighte  nought  putte  it  to  execucioun  per- 
aventure,  and  thanue  were  it  likly  to  torne  to  the  werre,  as 
it  was  biforn.  And  therfore  if  ye  wol  that  men  do  yow 
obeissaunce,  ye  moste  deme  more  curteisly,  that  is  to  sayn, 
ye  moste  give  more  esyere  sentence  and  juggement.  For  it 
is  writen  :  lie  that  most  curteysly  comaundeth,  to  him 
men  most  obeyen.  And  therefore  I  pray  yow,  that  in  this 
necessite  and  in  this  neede  ye  caste  yow  to  overcome  youre 
herte.  For  Senek  saith,  he  that  overcometh  his  herte, 
overcometh  twyes.  And  Tullius  saith  :  Ther  is  no  thing 
so  comendable  in  a  gret  lord,  as  whan  he  is  debonaire  and 
meeke,  and  appesith  him  lightly.  And  I  pray  yow.  that 
ye  wol  forbere  now  to  do  vengeaunce,  in  such  a  manere, 
chat  youre  goode  name  may  be  kept  and  conserved,  and 
that  men  mowe  have  cause  and  matiere  to  prayse  yow  of 
pitc'1  and  of  mercy  ;  and  that  ye  have  noon  cause  to  repente 
yow  of  tiling  that  ye  doori.  For  Senec  saith  :  He  over- 
cometh in  an  evel  manere)  that  repenteth  him  of  his  vic- 
torie.  Wherfore  I  pray  yow  let  mercy  be  in  youre  herte, 
to  th effect  and  thentent,  that,  God  almighty  have  mercy 
and  pite  upon  yow  in  his  laste  juggement.  For  seint  Jame 

™  And  t/it  sc/tal  .  .  .  t/ooil  name.     This  passage,  omitted  in  the  llarl.  Ms. 
ie  restored  from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 


452  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

saith  in  his  Epistil  :  juggeinent  withoute  mercy  schal  be 
doon  to  him,  that  hath  no  mercy  of  another  wight." 

Whan  Melibe  had  herd  the  grete  skiies  and  resouns  of 
dame  Pruderis,  and  hir  wys  iriformacioun  and  techynge, 
his  herte  gan  enclyne  to  tlie  wille  of  his  wyf,  corisideryng 
hir  trewe  entent,  conformed  him  anoon  and  consented  fuiiy 
to  werke  after  hir  reed  and  couuseil,  and  tharikid  God  of 
whom  procedeth  al  goodnes,  that  him  sente  a  wife  of  so 
gret  discreciouri.  And  whan  the  day  cam  that  his  adver- 
saries schulden  appere  in  his  presence,  he  spak  to  hem  ful 
goodly,  and  sayde  in  this  wise  :  "  Al  be  it  so,  that  of  youre 
pryde  and  heigh  presumpcioun  and  folye,  arid  of  youre  neg- 
ligence and  unconnynge,  ye  have  mysbore  yo\v.  and  tres- 
passed unto  me,  yit  forasmoche  as  I  se  arid  biholde  youre 
humilite,  that  ye  ben  sory  and  repentaurit  of  youre  giltes, 
it  constreigneth  me  to  do  yow  grace  and  mercy.  Wherfore 
I  receyve  yow  to  my  grace,  and  forge  ve  yow  outerly  alle 
the  offenses,  injuries,  and  wronges,  that  ye  have  don  to 
me  and  agayns  me  and  myne,  to  this  effect  and  to  thisende, 
that  God  of  his  erideles  mercy  wole  at  the  tyme  of  cure 
deyinge  forgive  us  oure  giltes,  that  we  have  trespased  to 
him  in  this  wrecched  world  ;  for.douteles  and  we  ben  sory 
and  repentaunt  of  the  synnes  and  giltes  whiche  we  have 
trespassed  inrie  in  the  sight  of  oure  lord  God,  he  is  so  free 
and  so  merciable,  that  he  will  forgive  us  oure  gultes,  and 
bringe  us  to  the  blisse  that  never  hath  eride."  Amen. 

THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  MONKES  TALE. 


ended  was  my  tale  of  Melibe, 
And  of  Prudence  and  hire  benignite, 
Oure  hoste  sayde,   "  As  I  am  faithful  man, 
And  by  the  precious  corpus  Madryan  ! 
I  hadde  lever  than  a  barel  ale 

That  gode  leef  my  wyf  had  herd  this  tale.  15380 

For  sche  is  no  thing  of  such  pacience 
As  was  this  Melibeus  wyf  dame  Prudence. 
By  Goddes  boories  !  whan  1  bete  my  knaves, 
Sche  bringeth  me  forth  the  grete  clobbet  staves, 
And  crieth,    '  slee  the  dogges  everychon  ! 
And  breke  of  hem  bothe  bak  and  bon  !  ' 
Arid  if  that  eny  neghebour  of  myne 
Wol  nought  to  my  wyf  in  chirche  enclyne, 
Or  be  so  hardy  to  liir  to  trespace, 
Whan  sche  comth  lion;,  sche  rampeth  in  my  face, 

15378.   corpus  Matlnjan.     Urry  explains  this  as  referring  to  the  iflioe  at 
.  .Materne  of  Trev?e. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  MONKES  TALE.        453 


And  crieth,  '  false  coward,  wreke  thy  wyf  !  15391 

By  corpes  bones  !  I  wil  have  thy  kriyf, 

And  thou  schalt  have  my  distaf  and  go  spynne.' 

Fro  day  to  night  right  thus  sche  wil  bygynne  : 

'  Alias  ! '  sche  saith,   '  that  ever  I  was  i-schape, 

To  wedde  a  my  Ik-sop  or  a  coward  ape, 

That  wil  be  over-lad  with  every  wight ! 

Thou  darst  nought  storide  by  thy  wyves  right.' 

This  is  my  lif,  but  if  that  I  wil  fight ; 

And  out  atte  dore  anoon  I  most  me  dight,  15400 

And  ellis  I  am  lost,  but  if  that  1 

Be  lik  a  wilde  leoun  fool-hardy. 

I  wot  wel  sche  wol  do  me  sle  som  day 

Som  neighebor,  and  thanne  renne  away. 

For  I  am  perilous  with  knyf  in  honde, 

Al  be  it  that  I  dar  not  hir  withstonde. 

For  "sche  is  big  in  armes,  by  my  faith  ! 

That  schal  he  fynde  that  hire  mysdoth  or  saith. 

But  let  us  passe  away  fro  this  matiere. 

My  lord  the  monk,"  quod  he,  '  be  mery  of  chore, 

For  ye  schul  telle  a  tale  trewely.  13411 

Lo,  Rowchestre  stant  heer  faste  by. 

Ryde    forth,   myn   oughne    lord,    brek    nought    cure 

game ! 

But,  by  my  trouthe,  I  can  not  youre  name  ; 
Whether  schal  I  calle  yow  my  lord  dan  Johan, 
Or  daun  Thomas,  or  elles  dan  Albon  ? 
Of  what  hous  be  ye,  by  your  fader  kyn  ? 
I  vow  to  God  thou  hast  a  ful  fair  skyn  ! 
It  is  a  gentil  pasture  ther  thou  gost ; 
Thow  art  not  like  a  penaunt  or  a  goost.  15420 

Upon  my  faith,  thou  art  an  officer, 
Some  worthy  sexteyn,  or  some  celerer  ; 
For,  by  my  fader  soule,  as  to  my  doome, 
Thou  art  a  maister  whan  thou  art  at  hoom, 
No  pover  cloysterer,  lie  nori  novys, 
But  a  governour  bothe  wily  and  wys  ; 
Ahd  ther  withal  of  brawne  and  of  bones 
A  wel  faryng  persorie  for  the  rioones. 
I  praye  Grod  give  him  confusioun, 

That  first  the  broughte  to  religioun  !  15430 

Thow  woldist  hau  be  a  trede-foul  aright ; 

15424.  a  maister.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  an  officer,  which  probably  slipped 
111  by  the  negligence  of  a  scribe,  who  had  those  words  on  his  ear  from  line 
1541'i.  The  present  reading  is  given  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt. 

lf>4L't>.  bothe.  I  have  added  this  word  as  apparently  necessary  to  the  me« 
tre,  though  found  neither  in  the  Ilarl.  Ms.  nor  Lansd.  Ms. 


454  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Haddist  thou  .as  gret  a  leve  as  thou  hast  might 

To  performe  al  thi  wil  in  engendrure, 

Thow  haddist  bigeten  many  a  creature. 

Alias  !  why  werest  thou  so  wyd  a  cope  ? 

Grod  gif  me  sorwe !  and  I  were  a  pope, 

Nought  only  thou,  but  every  mighty  man, 

Though  he  were  scliore  brode  upon  his  pan, 

Schuld  had  a  wif ;  for  al  this  world  is  lorn, 

Religioun  hath  take  up  al  the  corn  15446 

Of  tredyng,  and  we  burel  men  ben  schrpnpes  ; 

Of  feble  trees  ther  cometh  feble  ympea. 

This  makith  that  oure  heires  ben  so-  sclender 

And  feble,  that  thay  may  not  wel  engender. 

This  maketh  that  oure  wyfes  wol  assaye 

Religious  folk,  for  thay  may  bettre  pave 

Of  Venus  payementes  than  may  we. 

God  woot,  no  lusscheburghes  paye  ye  ! 

But  beth  nought  wroth,  my  lorde,  though  I  play, 

15432.  tliou  hast.  These  words  are  added  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  and  seem 
kecessary  to  the  sense  and  metre. 

15448.  lusscheburghes.  A  somewhat  similar  comparison  occurs  in  Pier» 
Ploughman,  1. 10322. 

"  Ac  there  is  a  defaute  in  the  folk 

That  the  feith  kepeth; 

Wherfore  folk  is  the  febler, 

And  noght  ferm  of  bileve, 

As  in  lussheburwes  is  a  luther  alay 

And  yet  loketh  he  like  a  sterlyng. 

The  merk  of  that  monee  is  good, 

Ac  the  metal  is  feeble." 

In  fact  the  coin  alluded  to  was  a  base  money  (a  luther,  or  bad,  alay)  which 
was  brought  into  this  country  in  considerable  quantities  in  the  times  of  the 
first  Edwards,  and,  as  we  see  from  the  specimens  existing,  it  must  when  new 
have  easily  passed  for  the  sterling  money  of  the  English  kings.  The  name 
appears  to  have  been  derived  from  its  being  struck  at  Luxemburg,  by  the 
counts. 

All  sorts  of  false  money  appear  to  have  been  continually  brought  into  this 
country  in  the  middle  ages  ;  but  these  lusscheburghes  seem  to  have  been  the 
greatest  cause  of  annoyance.  In  the  year  1346  the  petition  of  the  Commons 
in  the  parliament  assembled  at  Westminster  pointed  out  several  mal-prae- 
tices  which  were  supposed  to  be  the  cause  of  the  scarcity  of  good  money  at 
that  time,  and  began  with  stating,  that  many  merchants  and  others  carried 
the  good  money  out  of  the  realm,  and  brought  in  its  room  false  money  called 
lussnebourues,  which  were  worth'  only  eight  shillings  the  pound,  or  less  ;  by 
which  means  the  importers,  and  they  who  took  them  at  a  low  price  to  utter 
again,  were  suddenly,  wrongfully,  and  beyond  measure  enriched  ;  whilst 
they  who  were  unable  to  distinguish  the  said  money  were  cheated  and  im- 
poverished, and  the  whole  realm  was  fraudulently  filled  with  those  base 
coins.  In  1347,  the  false  lusshebourues  still  continued  to  be  brought  into  the 
kingdom  in  great  quantities,  and  the  Commons  petitioned  that  the  guilty 
might  suffer  the  punishment  of  drawing  and  hanging.  In  1348,  it  was  again 
necessary  to  forbid  the  circulation  of  lussheburghs  ;  and  in  1351,  the  Statute 
of  Purveyors  was  passed,  which  (cap.  11)  declares  what  offences  shall  be  ad- 
ludged  treason,  amongst  which  is  this  :  if  a  man  counterfeit  the  king's  seal 
jn  his  money,  and  if  a  man  bring  false  money  into  the  realm,  counterfeit  of 
be  money  of  England,  as  the  money  called  tushburgh,  or  other  like  to  the 
ftid  tuoiieV  of  England,  etc. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  455 


For  oft  in  game  a  soth  I  have  herd  say."  15450 

This  worthy  monk  took  al  in  pacience, 
And  saide,  "  I  wol  doon  al  my  diligence, 
Als  fer  as  souneth  into  honeste, 
To  telle  yow  a  tale,  or  tuo  or  thre  ; 
And  if  yow  lust  to  herken  hider-ward, 
I  wil  yow  say  the  lif  of  seint  Edward, 
Or  elles  first  tregedis  wil  I  yow  telle, 
Of  which  I  have  an  hundred  in  my  celle. 
Tregedis  is  to  sayn  a  certeyn  storie, 
As  olde  bookes  maken  us  memorie,  15460 

Of  hem  that  stood  in  greet  prcsperite, 
And  is  y-fallen  out  of  heigh  degn; 
Into  miserie,  and  endith  wrecchedly  ; 
And  thay  ben  versifyed  comunly 
Of  six.  feet,  which  men  clepe  exametron. 
In  prose  ben  eek  endited  many  oon  ; 
In  metre  eek,  in  many  a  sondry  wise  ; 
Lo,  this  declaryng  ought  y-nough  suffise. 
Now  herkneth,  if  yow  likith  for  to  heere ; 
But  first  .1  yow  biseche  in  this  matiere,  15470 

Though  1  by  ordre  telle  not  thise  thinges, 
Be  it  of  popes,  emperours,  or  kynges, 
After  her  age,  as  men  may  write  fynde, 
But  telle  hem  som  bifore  and  som  byhyndfe, 
As  it  cometh  now  to  my  remembraunce, 
Haveth  me  excused  of  myn  ignorauiice. 

THE   MOXKES    TALE. 

I  WOL  bywaile,  in  maner  of  tragedye, 

The  harm  of  hem  that  stood  in  heigh  degrd, 

And  fallen  so  ther  is  no  remedye 

To  bring  hem  out  of  her  adversito  ;  15480 

For  certeynly,  whan  fortune  lust  to  flee, 

Ther  may  no  man  the  cours  of  hir  whiel  holde ; 

Let  no  man  truste  in  blynd  prosperite, 

Beth  war  by  these  ensamples  trewe  and  olde. 

15467.  I  have  ventured  to  emendate  this  line  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.  Th* 
jf  arl.  Ms.  has,  "  And  in  metre  eek,  and  in  sondry  wise,"  in  which  both  sen:-e 
and  metre  sulfer. 

The  Monkes  Tale.  This  tale  is  evidently  founded  upon  Boccaccio's  cele- 
brated work  l)e  casibus  virorum  il/ustrhim,  but  Chaucer  lias  introduced  the 
several  stories  according  to  his  own  fancy,  and  has  often  taken  them  from 
other  sources.  They  are  not  contained  in  the  same  order  in  all  the  manu- 
scripts of  Chaucer. 

15482.  the  cours  of  htr  tchivl  holde.  Tyrwhitt  ha?  adopted  a  reading  which 
is  far  less  natural  and  expressive,  in  the  language  of  Chaucer's  age.  ••  of  hire 
the  course  witholde."  The  wheel  of  fortune  is  a  well-known  emblem,  not 
Oi'ly  in  medieval  literature,  but  in  medieval  art. 


456  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Lucifer. 

At  Lucifer,  though  he  an  aungil  were, 
And  nought  a  man,  at  him  wil  1  bygynne  ; 
For  though  fortune  may  non  aungel  dere, 
From  heigh  degre  yit  fel  ho  for  his  synne 
Douri  into  helle,  wher  he  yet  is  irine. 
O  Lucifer  !  brightest  of  aurigels  alle,  15400 

Now  art  thou  Sathanas,  thou  maist  nought  twynue 
Out  of  miserie  in  which  thou  art  falle. 

Adam. 

Lo  Adam,  in  the  feld  of  Damassene 
With  Goddes  oughne  fynger  wrought  was  he, 
And  nought  bigeten  of  mannes  sperma  unclene, 
And  welt  al  paradys,  savyng  oon  tre. 
Had  never  wordly  man  suche  degre 
As  Adam,  til  he  for  mysgovernance 
Was  dryven  out  of  heigh  prosperite, 
To  labour,  and  to  helle,  and  to  meschaunce.          15500 

Sampson. 

Lo  Sampson,  whiche  that  was  annunciate 
By  than  gel,  long  er  his  nativite, 
Arid  was  to  God  Almighty  consecrate, 
And  stood  in  nobles  whil  that  he  might  se. 
Was  never  such  another  as  was  he, 
To  speke  of  strength,  and  therto  hardynesse  ; 
But  to  his  wyfes  told  he  his  secro, 
Thurgh  which  he  slough  himselfe  for  wrecchidnesse. 

Sampson,  this  noble  and  myhty  champioun, 
Withouten  wepen  save  his  hondes  tueye,  15510 

He  slowhe  and  al  to-rerit  the  lyoun 
To-ward  his  weddynge  walkinge  be  the  waie. 
The  false  wif  couthe  him  plese  and  preie 
Til  sche  his  couriseile  knewe,  arid  sche  untrewe 
Unto  his  foos  his  consel  gan  bewreye, 
And  him  for-soke,  and  toke  another  newe. 

15493.  Lo  Adam.  Adam  comes  first  in  the  stories  of  Boccaccio.  Lydgate, 
in  his  translation  of  Boccacc,  says  of  Adam  and  live, — 

"Of  slime  of  the  erth  in  Damascene  thefelde 
(iod  made  them  above  echo  creature." 

15501.  Lo  Sampson.  Chaucer  appears  to  have  taken  the  story  of  Samson 
directly  from  the  book  of  Judges,  which,  he  quotes  in  express  words  a  few 
lines  further  on. 

15509.  This  stanza  has  been  accidentally  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.,  and  ii 
here  inserted  frnm  the  Lausd.  Ms.  11  represents  the  fourteenth  chapter  oi 
th«  book  of  J  udgeb. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  457 


Thre  hundred  foxis  took  Sampson  for  ire, 
And  alle  her  tayles  he  togider  bond  ', 
And  sette  the  foxes  tailes  alle  on  fuyre, 
For  he  in  every  tail  hath  knyt  a  brond  ;  15520 

And  thay  brent  alle  the  comes  of  that  lond, 
And  alle  her  olyvers  and  vynes  eeke. 
A  thousand  men  he  slough  eek  with  his  hond, 
And  hadde  no  weperi  but  an  asses  cheeke. 

Whan  thay  were  slayri,  so  thursted  him  that  he 
Was  wel  ner  lorn,  for  which  he  gan  to  preye 
That  God  wolde  of  his  peyne  have  som  pite 
And  send  him  dryrik,  and  elles  must  he  deye. 
And  out  of  this  asses  cheke,  that  was  so  dreye, 
Out  of  a  woung  toth  sprong  anon  a  welle,  15530 

Of  which  he  dronk  y-nough,  schortly  to  seye; 
Thus  halp  him  God,1  as  Judicum  can  telle. 

By  verray  fors  at  Grasan,  on  a  night, 
Maugiv  the  Philistiens  of  that  cite, 
The  gates  of  the  toun  lie  hath  up  plight, 
And  on  his  bak  caried  hem  hath  he, 
lleigh  upon  an  hil,  wher  men  might  hem  se. 
O  noble  almighty  Sampson,  leef  and  deere, 
Haddest  thou  nought  to  wommeii  told  thy  secrfc, 
In  al  the  world  ne  hadde  be  thy  peere.  15540 

This  Sampson  iieyther  siser  dronk  ne  wyn, 
Ne  on  his  heed  com  rasour  noon  ne  schere, 
By  precept  of  the  messager  divyn, 
For  alle  his  strengthes  in  his  heres  were. 
And  fully  twenty  wyriter,  yer  by  yere, 
He  hadde  of  Israel  the  governauiice. 
But  soone  he  schal  wepe  many  a  teere, 
For  wymmen  schulii  him  bringe  to  meschaunce. 

Unto  his  lemman  Dalida  he  tolde 

That  in  his  heres  al  his  strengthe  lay  ;  15550 

And  falsly  to  his  foomen  sche  him  solde, 
And  slepyng  in  liir  barm  upon  a  day 
Sche  made  to  clippe  or  schere  his  heres  away 
And  made  his  foomen  al  his  craft  espien. 
And  whan  thay  fonde  him  in  this  array, 
They  bound  him  fast,  and  put  out  bothe  his  yen. 

But  er  his  heer  clipped  was  or  i-schave, 
Ther  was  110  bond  with  which  men  might  him  bynde ; 

15533.  at  Gasan.  The  Had.  Ms.  reads,  by  an  evident  mistake  of  the 
icriho,  of  Alc/ason. 

15541.  iu  i/t/tcr  ttiscr.  Sicera  ;  a  general  term  for  oilier  intoxicating  di  mks 
than  wine.  The  I.ansd.  Ms.  reads  sitlur.  Tyrwhitt  h;is  substituted  filler. 

15516.  Israel.  I  li.-ive  substituted  this  from  the  other  manuscripts,  la 
l»l»ce  of  Jerusalem,  uhich  is  the  reading  of  the  Hurl.  Ms- 


458 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


But  now  is  he  in  prisoun  in  a  cave, 

Ther  as  thay  made  him  at  the  querne  grynde.       15560 

O  noble  Sampson,  strengest  of  al  mankynde  ! 

O  whilom  jugge  in  glory  and  in  richesse  ! 

Now  maystow  wepe  with  thine  eyghen  blynde, 

Sith  thou  fro  wele  art  falle  to  wrecchednesse  ? 

Thend  of  this  caytif  was,  as  I  schal  say, 
His  foomen  made  a  fest  upon  a  day, 
Arid  made  him  as  here  fool  biforn  hem  play ; 
And  this  was  in  a  temple  of  gret  array. 
But  atte  last  he  made  a  foul  affray ;  15570 

For  he  two  pilers  schook,  and  made  hem  falle, 
And  doun  fel  temple  and  al,  and  ther  it  lay, 
And  slough  himsilf  and  eek  his  fomen  alle ; 

This  is  to  sayn,  the  princes  everichon  ; 
And  eek  thre  thousand  bodies' were  ther  slayn, 
With  fallyng  of  the  grete  temple  of  stoon. 
Of  Sampson  now  wil  I  no  more  sayn  ; 
Be  war  by  these  ensamples,  olde  and  playn, 
That  no  man  telle  his  counseil  to  his  wyf, 
Of  such  thing  as  he  wold  have  secre  fayn, 
If  that  it  touche  his  lymes  or  his  lif.  15580 

De  Ercule. 

Of  Ercules,  the  sovereyn  conquerour, 
Singen  his  werkes  laude  and  heigh  renoun  ; 

15560.  at  the  querne  grynde.  Et  clausum  in  carcere  molere  f  ecerunt.  Jud. 
xvi.  21. 

15581.  Of  Ercules.  The  account  of  the  labors  of  Hercules  is  almost  liter- 
ally translated  from  Boethius  De  Conml.  1'hllos.,  lib.  iv.  mctr.  7,  though 
Chaucer  has  changed  the  order  of  some  of  them. 

Herculem  dim  celebrant  labores  : 
Ille  Centauros  doniuit  superbos  ; 
Abstulit  srevo  s'polimn  leoni ; 
Fixit  et  certis  volucres  sagittis  ; 
Poma  cernenti  rapuit  draconi 
Aureo  lasva  gravior  metallo  ; 
Cerberum  traxit  triplici  catena; 
Victor  iinmitem  posuisse  fertur 
Pabuluin  sajvis  doininnm  quadrigisj 
Hydra  combiisto  peril t  veneno  ; 
Fronte  turpatus  Achelous  amnis 
Ora  demersit  pudibunda  ripis  ; 
Stravit  Anthemn  Libycis  arenis; 
Cacus  Kvandri  satiavit  iras, 
Quosque  prossurus  forot  altus  orbis 
Setijjer  spumis  huineros  notavit. 
Ultimus  ciplum  labor  irrellexo 
Sustulit  collo.  pretiunxiiie  rursiis 
Ultiini  cadun?  nieruit  Inboris. 

!  rostore  the  names  from  the  Lansdowne  Ms.,  as  they  ar«  w«cy  inc«rrectlj 
written  in  the  Harl.  Ms 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  459 

For  in  his  tynie  of  strength  he  bar  the  flour, 
lie  slough  and  rafte  the  skyn  fro  the  leoun  ; 
He  of  Centaures  layde  the  host  adouri  ; 
He  Arpies  slough,  the  cruel  briddes  felle ; 
Tlie  gold  appul  he  raft  fro  the  dragoun  ; 
He  drof  out  Cerbuves  the  fend  of  helle  ; 

He  slough  the  cruel  tyrant  Buserus, 
And  made  his  hors  to  frete  him  fleisch  and  boon  : 
He  slough  the  verray  serpent  veneneus;  >o591 

Of  Achiloyus  tuo  homes  he  raft  oon  ; 
He  slough  Cacus  in  a  cave  of  stoon  ; 
He  slough  the  geaurit  Anteus  the  stronge  ; 
He  slough  the  grisly  bore,  and  that  anoon  ; 
And  bar  the  hevene  upon  his  necke  longe. 

Was  never  wight,  siththen  the  world  bigan, 
That  slough  so  many  monstres  as  dede  he  ; 
Thurghout  the  wide  world  his  name  ran, 
What  for  his  strengthe  and  for  his  bounte,  15600 

And  every  roialme  went  he  for  to  se  ; 
He  was  so  strong,  ther  might  no  man  him  lette. 
At  bothe  the  worldes  endes,  as  saith  Trophe, 
In  stode  of  boundes  he  a  piler  sette. 

A  lemmari  hadde  this  noble  campioun, 
That  highte  Bejanire,  freissh  as  May  ; 
And  as  these  clerkes  niaken  meiicioun, 
Sche  hath  him  sent  a  schurte  fresch  and  gay. 
Alas  !  this  schirt,  alias  and  wailaway  ! 
Enveriymed  was  subtily  withalle,  15610 

That  er  he  hadde  wered  it  half  a  day, 
It  made  his  lleisch  al  fro  his  bones  falle. 

But  riatheles  som  clerkes  hir  excusen, 
By  0011  that  highte  Nessus,  that  it  makyd. 
Be  as  be  may,  I  wil  nought  hir  accusyri  ; 
But  on  his  bak  he  wered  this  schirt  al  naked, 
Til  that  his  fleisch  was  for  the  venym  blaked. 

1558*.  rlrnf,  drew.    The  Land.  Ms.  reads  droulie. 

155!).-..  bore.  Substituted  from  the  Land.  Ms.  for  leoun,  ti,c  reading  of  the 
Harl.  Ms. 

15596.  hi-venr.  I  have  retained  Tyrwhitt's  reading,  which  he  foil  id  in 
other  MSS..  because  it  represents  the  Latin  of  Roethius,  as  quoted  abov  >,  and 
which  in  Chaucer's  prose  version  of  that  writer  is  translated  Ihus,  "  Ai  d  the 
last  of  his  labors  was,  that  he  sustained  the  heven  upon  his  necke  unbo  ved." 
The  Har,.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  read  the  hred,  evidently  supposing  it  refers  »  the 
head  of  the  bore  ;  the  printed  editions,  with  the  same  notion,  read  '•  and  bare 
his  bed  upon  his  spore  longe." 


460  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  whan  he  saugh  noon  other  remedye, 

In  hote  col  is  he  hath  himself  i-raked  , 

For  no  venym  deyned  him  to  dye.  15620 

Thus  starf  this  mighty  and  worthy  Ercules. 
Lo  !  who  may  truste  fortune  euy  throwe  ? 
For  him  that  folweth  al  this  world  of  pros 
Er  he  be  war,  is  oft  y-layd  ful  lowe. 
Ful  wys  is  he  that  can  himselven  knowe  ! 
Be  war,  for  whan  that  fortune  lust  to  glose, 
Than  waytith  sche  hir  man  to  overthrowe, 
By  suche  way  as  he  wolde  lest  suppose. 

De  rege  Nabugodonosor. 

The  mighty  trone,  the  precious  tresor, 

The  glorious  ceptre  and  real  mageste,  15630 

That  had  the  king  Nabugodonosore, 

With  tonge  unnethes  may  descryved  be. 

He  twyes  wan  Jerusalem  that  cite  ; 

The  vessel  out  of  the  temple  he  with  him  ladde  ; 

At  Babiloyne  was  his  sovereyn  see, 

In  which  his  glorie  and  his  delyt  he  ladde. 

The  fairest  children  of  the  blood  roial 
Of  Israel  he  dede  gelde  anoon, 
And  made  ylk  of  hem  to  ben  his  thral ; 
Amonges  othre  Daniel  was  oon,  15640 

That  was  the  wisest  child  of  everychoon. 
For  he  the  dremes  of  the  king  expouned, 
Ther  as  in  Caldeyri  was  ther  clerkes  noon 
That  wiste  to  what  fyn  his  dremes  souned. 

This  proude  king  let  make  a  statu  of  gold, 
Sixty  cubites  long  and  seven  in  brede, 
To  which  ymage  bothe  yonge  and  olde 
Comaurided  he  to  love  and  have  in  drede, 
Or  in  a  fornays  ful  of  flames  rede 

He  schulde  be  brent  that  wolde  not  obeye.  15659 

But  never  wolde  assente  to  that  dede 
Danyel  ne  his  felawes  tweye. 

This  king  of  kinges  preu  was  and  elate  ; 
He  wende  Gfod  that  sit  in  mageste 
Ne  might  him  nought  bireve  of  his  estate. 
But  sodeynly  he  left  his  dignite, 
I-Iik  a  best  him  seined  for  to  be, 
And  eet  hay  as  an  oxe,  and  lay  ther-oute 

15053.  preu  it-fix  and  elate.    I  have  aikleJ  the  conjunction  from  Tyiwhitt 
»iio  roads  proud  was  an  elate. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  461 

In  rayn,  with  wilde  bestes  walkyd  he, 
Til  certein  tyine  was  i-coine  aboute. 

And  lik  an  eglis  fetheres  were  his  heres, 
His  hondes  like  a  briddes  clowes  were, 
Til  (iod  relessed  him  a  certeyn  yeres, 
And  gaf  him  witte,  and  thanne  with  many  a  tere 
He  thanked  God,  and  ever  he  is  afere 
To  doon  amys  or  more  to  trespace. 
And  er  that  tyine  he  layd  was  on  bere, 
He  knew  wel  liod  was  ful  of  might  and  grace. 

Balthazar. 

His  sone,  which  that  highte  Balthazar, 
That  huld  the  regne  after  his  fader  day, 
He  by  his  fader  couthe  nought  be  war, 
For  proud  he  was  of  hert  and  of  array  ; 
And  eek  an  ydolaster  was  he  ay. 
His  heigh  astate  assured  him  in  pryde  ; 
But  fortune  cast  him  doun,  and  ther  he  layt 
And  sodeynly  his  regrie  gan  divide. 

A  fest  he  made  unto  his  lordes  alle 
Upon  a  tyme,  he  made  hem  blithe  be  ; 
And  than  his  officeres  gan  he  calle, 
"  Groth,  bringeth  forth  the  vessealx,"  quod  he, 
"  The  which  my  fader  in  his  prosperite 
Out  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  byraft ; 
And  to  oure  hihe  goddis  thanke  we 
Of  honours  that  oure  eldres  with  us  laft  I  " 
His  wif,  his  lordes,  and  his  concubines 
Ay  dronken,  whiles  her  arriont  last, 
Out  of  this  noble  vesseals  sondry  wynes. 
And  on  a  wal  this  king  his  yhen  cast, 
And  saugh  an  bond  armies,  that  wroot  fast  j 
For  fere  of  which  he  quook  and  siked  sore. 
This  hond,  that  Balthazar  made  so  sore  agasti 
Wrot,  M<ui>i,  techel,  phures,  and  no  more. 

In  al  the  lond  magicien  was  noon 

1,Wi2.  Iioinles.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  nai/les,  which  is  adopted  by  lyi 
»hitt. 

150C5.  lie  is  afere.  Tho  Lansd.  Ms.,  which  is  followed  by  Tyrwhitt,  reads,— 

.    .    .    and  his  life  in  fere 
Was  he  to  doon  amys. 

15660.  7/J.s  antif.  This  story  aiut  the  preceding  are  taken  from  Daniel,  1.  5  ; 
the  latter  only  is  given  in  Boeaccio. 

ir>(>>6.  itrriont.  This  is  the  reading  of  th"  Harl.  Ms.;  it  is  a  word  whicti 
occurs  nowhere  else,  as  far  as  1  am  aware,  tail  I  have  not  vcutuiedto  alter  it. 
The  LansJ.  Me.  reads  nj^n-ti/LS,  which  Tyrv.'hitt  adopts. 


462  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


That  couthe  expounde  what  this  lettre  inent. 
But  Daniel  expoundith  it  anoon. 
And  sayde,  "  King,  God  to  thy  fader  sent 
Glori  and  honour,  regne,  tresor,  and  rent  ; 
And  he  was  proud,  and  nothing  God  ne  dredde» 
And  therfor  God  gret  wreche  upon  him  sent, 
And  him  biraft  the  regne  that  he  hadde. 

"  He  was  out  cast  of  mannes  compaignye, 
With  asses  was  his  habitacioun, 
And  eete  hay  in  wet  and  eek  in  drye. 
Til  that  he  knew  by  grace  and  by  resoun 
That  God  of  heven  had  domiriaciouri, 
Over  every  regne  and  every  creature  ; 
And  than  had  God  of  him  compassioun, 
And  him  restored  to  his  regne  and  his  figure. 

"  Eke  thou  that  art  his  sone  art  proud  also, 
And  knowest  al  this  thing  so  verrayly, 
And  art  rebel  to  God  and  art  his  fo  ; 
Thou  dronk  eek  of  his  vessel  bodily, 
Thy  wyf  eek  and  thy  wenche  sinfully 
Ihxmke  of  the  same  vessel  sondry  wynes  ; 
And  heriest  false  goddes  cursedly  ; 
Therfore  to  the  schapen  ful  gret  pyne  es. 

"  This  hond  was  send  fro  God,  that  on  the  wal 
AVrot,  Mane,  techel,  phares,  truste  me. 
Thy  regne  is  doon,  thou  weyist  nought  at  al  j 
Divided  is  thy  regne,  and  it  schal  be 
To  Meedes  arid  to  Perses  geveri,"  quod  he. 
And  thilke  same  night,  the  king  was  slawe, 
And  Darius  occupied  his  degie, 
Though  therto  neyther  had  he  right  ne  lawp. 

Lordyngs,  ensample  her-by  may  ye  take, 
How  that  in  lordschip  is  no  sikernesse  ; 
For  whan  fortune  wil  a  man  for-sake, 
Sche  bereth  away  his  regne  and  his  richesee, 
And  eek  his  frendes  bothe  more  and  lesse. 
And  what  man  hath  of  frendes  the  fortune, 
Mishap  wil  make  hem  enemyes,  I  gesse  ; 
This  proverbe  is  ful  sothe  and  ful  comurie. 

Zenobia. 

Cenobia,  of  Palmire  the  queenp, 
As  writen  Pereieris  of  hir  noblesse, 

15719.  weyist.    Tins  reading  is  taken  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.    Th«  Karl.  Ma, 
reads  irenist. 

15733.  Cenobia.  The  story  of  Zenobia  is  taken  chiefly  from  Boccao<ao'9 
.  L>e  claris  mulirriitu*. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  463 


So  worthy  was  in  arrnes  and  so  keene. 

That  no  wight  passed  hir  in  hardyriesse, 

Ne  in  lynage,  ne  in  other  gentilnesse. 

Of  the  kinges  blood  of  Pers  sche  is  descendid  ; 

I  nay  that  sche  htul  not  most  fairnesse, 

But  of  hir  schap  sche  might  not  be  amendid. 

Fro  hir  childhod  1  fyride  that  sch    fledde 
Office  of  woniinen,  and  to  woode  sche  went, 
And  many  a  wilde  hertes  blood  sche  schedde 
With  arwes  brode  that  sche  to  hem  sent ; 
Sche  was  so  swyft,  that  sche  anoon  hem  hent. 
And  whan  that  sche  was  elder,  sche  wolde  kille 
Leouns,  lebardes,  and  beres  al  to-rent, 
And  in  hir  armes  weld  hem  at  hir  wille. 

Sche  dorste  wilde  bestes  demies  seke, 
And.renne  in  the  mounteyns  al  the  night, 
And  slepe  under  a  bussh  ;  and  sche  couthe  eeke 
Wrastil  by  verray  fors  and  verray  might 
With  eny  yong  man,  were  he  never  so  wight. 
Ther  mighte  no  thing  in  hir  armes  stonde. 
Sche  kept  hir  maydonhed  from  every  wight ; 
To  no  man  deyned  hire  to  be  bonde. 

But  atte  last  hir  frendes  han  hir  maried 
To  Odenake,  prince  of  that  citee, 
Al  were  it  so  that  sche  him  longe  taried. 
And  ye  schul  understonde  how  that  he 
Had  suche  fantasies  as  hadde  sche. 
But  natheles,  whan  thay  were  kriyt  in  fere, 
Thay  lyved  in  joye  and  in  felicite  ; 
For  ech  of  hem  had  other  leef  and  deere. 

Save  oon  thing,  sche  wolde  never  assent 
By  110  way  that  lie  schulde  by  hir  lye 
But  oones,  for  it  was  hir  playn  eiiterit 
To  have  a  child  the  world  to  multiplie  ; 
And  also  soone  as  sche  might  aspye 
That  sche  was  not  with  childe  yit  in  dede, 
Than  wold  sche  suffre  him  doon  his  fantasie 
Eftsones,  and  nought  but  oones,  out  of  drede, 

And  if  sche  were  with  child  at  thilke  cast. 
No  more  schuld  he  playe  thilke  game 
Til  fully  fourty  dayes  were  y-past, 
Than  wold  sche  su'ffre  him  to  do  the  same 
Al  were  this  Odenake  wilde  or  tame, 
He  gat  no  more  of  hir,  for  thus  sche  sayde, 
Hit  nas  but  wyves  lecchery  and  schame, 
In  other  caas  if  that  men  with  hem  playde. 

Tuo  sones  by  this  Odonak  had  sche. 


464  TUE  CANTERB  UR  Y  TA LES. 

The  which  sche  kept  in  vertu  and  lettrure. 

But  now  unto  our  purpos  torne  we  ; 

I  say,  so  worschipful  a  creature, 

And  wys,  worthy,  and  large  with  mesure, 

So  penyble  in  the  werre  and  curteys  eeke, 

Ne  more  labour  might  in  werre  endure, 

Was  nowher  noon  in  al  this  world  to  seeke. 
Hir  riche  array,  if  it  might  be  told, 

As  wel  in  vessel  as  in  hir  clothing,  15790 

Sche  was  al  clothed  in  perre  and  gold  ; 

And  eek  sche  lafte  nought  for  hir  huntyng 

To  have  of  sondry  tonges  ful  knowing  ; 

Whan  sche  had  leyser  and  might  therto  entent, 

To  lerne  bookes  was  al  hir  likyng, 

How  sche  in  vertu  might  hir  lif  despent. 
And  schortly  of  this  story  for  to  trete, 

So  doughty  was  hir  housbond  and  eek  sche, 

That  thay  conquered  many  regnes  grete 

In  thorient,  with  many  a  fair  citee  15800 

Appurtienant  unto  the  magest 

Of  Rome,  and  with  strong  hond  hulden  hern  fast  ; 

Ne  never  might  her  fomen  doon  hem  fle 

Ay  while  that  Odenakes  dayes  last. 

Her  batails,  who  so  lust  hem  for  to  rede, 

Agayn  Sapor  the  king  and  other  mo, 

And  how  that  this  processe  fel  in  dede, 

Why  sche  conquered,  and  what  title  had  therto, 

And  after  of  hir  meschief  and  hir  woo, 

How  that  sche  was  beseged  and  i-take,  15810 

Let  hem  unto  my  mayster  Petrark  go, 

That  writeth  of  this  y-nough,  I  undertake. 
Whan  Odenake  was  deed,  sche  mightily 

The  regnes  huld,  arid  with  hir  propre  hond 

Ageins  hir  foos  sche  fought  ful  trewely, 

That  ther  nas  king  ne  prince  in  al  that  lond 

That  he  nas  glad  if  he  that  grace  fond 

That  sche  ne  wold  upon  his  lond  werraye. 

With  hir  thay  made  alliaunce  by  bond, 

To  ben  in  peese,  and  let  hir  ryde  and  play.  1582ft 

The  emperour  of  Rome,  Claudius, 

Ne  him  biforn  the  Romayn  Galiene, 

Ne  dorste  never  be  so  corrageous, 

Ne  noon  Ermine,  ne  Egipciene, 

No  Surrien,  rie  noon  Arrabiene, 

15*10.  hest.TPtl.     This  reading  is  adcpted  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  as  b««t 
Bulled  to  the  context.     The  Harl.  .Ms.  has  dvceycrd. 

151-lf).  treicely.    The  MS*.  I  have  examined  agree  in  this  word;  Tyrwhitt 
res-is  cruelly. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  465 


Withinne  the  feld  that  durste  with  hir  fight, 
Lest  that  sclie  wold  hem  with  her  hondes  sleen, 
Or  with  hir  rneyne  putten  hem  to  flight. 

In  kinges  abyt  went  hir  sones  tuo, 
As  heires  of  her  fadres  regnes  alle  ;  15830 

And  Herrnanno  arid  Themaleo 
Here  names  were,  and  Parciens  men  hem  calle. 
But  ay  fortune  hath  in  hir  hony  galle  ; 
This  mighty  queene  may  no  while  endure. 
Fortune  out  of  hir  regne  made  hir  falle 
To  wrecchednesse  and  to  mysadventure. 

Aurilian,  whan  that  the  governaunce 
Of  Rome  cam  into  his  hondes  tway, 
He  schop  him  of  this  queen  to  do  vengeaunce  ; 
And  with  his  legiouns  he  took  the  way  15840 

Toward  Cenoby  ;  arid  schortly  to  say 
He  made  hir  flee,  and  atte  last  hir  hent, 
And  feterid  hir,  and  eek  hir  children  tweye, 
And  wari  the  loud,  and  home  to  Rome  he  went. 

Amonges  other  thinges  that  he  wan, 
Hir  chaar.  that  was  with  gold  wrought  and  perre, 
This  grete  Romayn,  this  Aurilian, 
Hath  with  him  lad,  for  that  men  schulde  se. 
Bifore  this  triumphe  walkith  sche, 

And  giite  cheynes  in  hir  necke  hongynge  ;  15550 

Corouried  sche  was,  as  aftir  hir  degre, 
And  ful  of  perre  chargid  hir  clothyng. 

Alias  !  fortune  !  sche  that  whilom  was 
Dredful  to  kings  and  to  emperoures, 
Now  gaulith  al  the  pepul  on  hir,  alas ! 
And  sche  that  helmyd  was  in  starke  stoures, 
And  wari  bifore  tounes  stronge  and  toures, 
Schal  on  hir  heed  now  were  a  wyntermyte  j 
And  she  that  bar  the  cepter  ful  of  floures, 
Schal  bere  a  distaf  hirself  for  to  quyte.  158GO 

I)e  Petro  Hispanic  rege 

O  noble  Petro,  the  glori  of  Spayne, 
Whom  fortune  held  so  heigh  in  mageste, 

15832.  mul  Parciens  men  hem  calle.  The  I.ansd.  Ms.  and  Tyrwhitt  read  «» 
Persians  hem  calle. 

15855.  ijaulith,  yclletli,  howleth,  shoutetb.  Tyrwhitt  follows  other 5ISS.  \v 
reading  yaureth,  shouteth. 

15857.'  bifore.  Other  MSS.  read  bi/fors. 

15858.  u'ynti'rmjiti'.  This  word,  the  exaot  meaning  of  which  seems  not  to  he 
known,  is  given  differently  in  the  uss.vitri/mite,Jitermyfe,witermite,  ritri/te, 
and  in  the  old  printed  editions,  ant  remit  e ;  the  latter  of  which  is  probably  a 
mere  error  of  the  printers. 

15860.  hirself.     Other  MSS.,  followed  by  Tyrwhii it.  read  hir  cost. 

15801,   O  noble  J'etro.    Tynvhitt  has  adopted  a  different  arrangement  from 


466  THE  CA  JV  TERB  UE  T  TALES. 


Wei  oughte  men  t\\j  pitous  deth  coniplayne  ; 

Thy  bastard  brother  made  the  to  fle, 

And  after  at  a  sege  by  subtilte 

ThoAv  were  by  tray  ed,  and  lad  to  his  tent, 

Wher  as  he  with  his  oughne  hend  slough  the, 

Succedyng  in  thy  lond  and  in  thy  rent. 

The  feld  of  snow,  with  thegle  of  black  ther-inne, 
Caught  with  the  leoun,  reed  coloured  as  is  the  gleede, 
He  brewede  the  cursednesse  and  synne,  15371 

The  wikked  nest  werker  of  this  neede. 
Nought  Oliver,  ne  Charles  that  ay  took  heede 
Of  trouthe  and  honour,  but  of  Armoryk 
Geniloun  Oliver,  corruptid  for  mede, 
Broughte  this  worthy  king  in  such  a  bryk. 

De  Petro  Cipre  rege. 

O  worthy  Petro  king  of  Cipres,  also, 
That  Alisaunder  wan  by  heigh  niaistrye, 
Ful  many  an  hethen  wroughtest  thou  ful  wo, 
Of  which  thin  oughne  lieges  had  envye  :  15880 

And  for  no  thing  but  for  thy  chivalrie, 
Thay  in  thy  bed  han  slayn  the  by  the  morwe. 

some  of  the  manuscripts,  so  as  to  place  the  histories  move  nearly  in  chrono- 
logical order,  by  inserting  afier  Zenobia,  >,"ero,  H<  lof ernes,  Antiochus,  Alex- 
ander, Caesar,  and  Cresus,  and  the  monk's  tale  is  made  to  end  \\'\\  h  the  story 
of  Hugolin  of  Pisa.  I  retain,  however,  the  arrangement  of  the  Marl.  Ms.,  not 
only  because  I  think  it  the  best  authority,  but  because  I  think  this  to  be  the 
order  in  which  Chaucer  intended  to  place  them.  The  conclusion  of  the 
monk's  tale,  as  it  here  stands,  seeme  to  be  the  natural  one.  When  Chaucer 
wrote  his  grand  work,  the  eventful  history  of  Pedro  tin-  Cruel  of  Aracon  was 
fresh  iu  peoples  memories  and  possessed  a  special  interest  in  this  country, 
from  tlu;  part  taken  in  the  events  connected  with  him  by  the  Black  Prince  ; 
we  can  easily  suppose  the  monk,  who  professes  to  disregard  chronological 
order,  wandering  from  the  story  of  Zenobia  to  some  events  of  his  own  time, 
and  then  recalling  other  examples  from  antiquity.  Tyrwhitt  adopts  from 
the  reading  of  other  MSS.,  O  noble  a  icortliy  I'etro,  (/!orl/>  of  Spa'me.  It  may 
be  observed,  that  the  cause  of  Pedro,  though  he  was  no  better  than  a  cruel 
and  reckless  tyrant,  was  popular  in  England  from  the  very  circumstance  that 
Prince  Edward  had  embarked  in  it. 

15864.  Other  MSS.  read  for  this  line,  Out  of  thy  lond  thy  brother  made  the 
flee. 

15RC8.  lond.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  regne,  which  is  adopted  by  Tynvliitt, 
and  is  perhaps  the  better  reading. 

15870.  Icoun,  ri'fd  coloured.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  limt>  roddf  colours,  and 
Tyrwhitt  has  adopted  limcrotl  coloured.  The  arms  here  described  are  prob- 
ably those  of  Duguesclin.  who  must  be  the  person  alluded  to  below  aa  the 
Oliver  of  Armoryk,  for  it  w:is  notoriously  Duguesclin  who  betrayed  Pedio 
into  his  brother's  tent,  where  he  was  slain. 

15KT3.  XmiiiM  Olin-r,  nc  ('lirtrle*.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  Charles  and 
O'.i/rcr,  and  Tyrwhitt  has  -\ot  Clmrl.s  Olin  r.  which  he  explains,  "Not  the 
Oliver  of  Charles  (Charlemange),  but  an  Oliver  of  Armorica,  a  secoud 
Guenelon." 

15*77.  Petro  kinfj  of  ftjpres.  Pierre  de  Lusignan.  king  of  Cyprus,  who  cap- 
tured Alexandria  in  Egypt  in  136">.  an  event  before  alluded  to  at  the  beginning 
ef  the  Canterbury  Tales  (I.  51).  This  prince  was  assassinated  in  1C39. 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  467 

Thus  can  fortune  the  whel  governe  and  gye, 
And  out  of  joye  briuge  men  into  sorwe. 

De  Barnabo  comite  Mediolano. 

Of  Melayn  grete  Barnabo  Viscount, 
God  of  delyt  and  scourge  of  Lumbardye, 
Why  schuld  thyri  infortune  I  noughte  accounte, 
Syn  in  astaat  thou  clonibe  were  so  hye  ; 
Thy  brother  sone,  that  Avas  thy  double  allie, 
For  he  thy  i?evew  was  and  sone  in  lawe,  15890 

Withinne  his  prisoun  made  the  to  dye  ; 
But  why  ne  how,  not  I,  that  thou  were  slawe. 

De  Hugilino  comite  Pise. 

Of  the  erl  Hugilin  of  Pise  the  langour 
Ther  may  no  tonge  telle  for  pite. 
But  litil  out  of  Pise  stant  a  tour, 
In  whiche  tour  in  prisoun  put  was  he ; 
And  with  him  been  his  litil  children  thre, 
Theldest  skarsly  fyf  yer  was  of  age  ; 
Alias!  fortune!   it  was  gvet  cruelte 
Suche  briddes  to  put  in  such  a  cage.  15900 

Dampriyd  he  was  to  deye  in  that  prisoun, 
For  Roger,  which  that  bisschop  was  of  Pise, 
Had  on  him  maad  a  fals  suggestioun  ; 
Ttiurgh  which  the  peple  gan  on  him  arise, 
And  putte  him  in  prisoun  in  such  wise 
As  ye  han  herd,  and  mete  and  drynke  he  hadde 
So  smal  that  wel  unnethe  it  may  suffise, 
And  therwithal  it  was  ful  pore  and  badde. 

And  on  a  day  bifel  that  in  that  hour 
Whan  that  his  mete  was  wont  to  be  brought,        15910 
The  gayler  schet  the  dores  of  that  tour. 
He  herd  it  wel,  but  he  saugh  it  nought. 
And  in  his  hert  anoon  ther  fel  a  thought 
That  thay  for  hungir  wolde  doon  him  dyen. 
"  Alas  !  "  quod  he,  "  alias  !  that  1  was  wrought !  " 
Therwith  the  teeres  felle  fro  his  eyen. 

15885.  Of  M<-\ayn  grete  Barnabn.  Bernabo  Visconti.  duke  of  Milan.  wa» 
deposed  by  his  nephew  and  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  died  in  1385.  This 
iragedy  must  have  occurred  so  recently  when  Chaucer  wrote,  that  we  do  not 
wonder  at  his  not  knowing  the  circumstances  of  his  death. 

158S6.  scour;/!'.  I  have  adopted  this  reading  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  in  place 
of  stri'Ht/th,  given  by  the  ITarl.  Ms.,  which  seems  evidently  incorrect. 

15893.  Of  the  erl  Hugilin.  The  story  of  Hugolin  of  Pisa,  had  been  toid 
by  Dante,  in  the  Infcrno,  canto  33,  whom  Chaucer  quotes  directly  as  hii 
authority. 


*68  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


His  yongest  sone,  that  thre  yer  was  of  age, 
Unto  him  sayde,  "  Fader,  why  do  ye  wepe? 
Whan  wil  the  gayler  bringen  oure  potage  ? 
Is  ther  no  morsel  bred  that  ye  doon  kepe?  1592C 

I  am  so  hungry  that  I  may  not  sleepe. 
Now  wolde  (rod  that  I  might  slepe  ever  ! 
Than  schuld  not  hunger  in  rny  worn  be  crepe. 
Ther  is  no  thing  save  bred  that  me  were  lever." 

Thus  day  by  day  this  child  bigan  to  crie, 
Til  in  his  fadres  barm  adoun  he  lay, 
And  sayde,  "  Far  wel,  fader,  I  moot  dye  !  " 
And  kist  his  fader,  and  dyde  the  same  day. 
And  whan  the  woful  fader  deed  it  say, 
For  wo  his  armes  tuo  he  gan  to  byte,  1593C 

And  sayde  "  Fortune,  alas  and  waylaway  ! 
Thin  false  querel  al  my  woo  I  wyte." 

His  childer  wende  that  it  for  hongir  was, 
That  he  his  armes  gnew,  and  nought  for  wo, 
And  sayden,  "Fader,  do  nought  so,  alias  ! 
But  rather  et  the  fleisch.  upon  us  tuo. 
Oure  fleisch  thou  gave  us,  oure  fleissh  thou  take  us  fro, 
Arid  ete  y-nough  ;  :'  right  thus  thay  to  him  seyde. 
And  after  that,  witliinne  a  day  or  tuo, 
Thay  layde  hem  in  his  lappe  adoun  and  deyde.    15940 

Himself  despeired  eek  for  horiger  starf. 
Thus  ended  is  this  mighty  eorl  of  Pise  ; 
For  his  estate  fortune  fro  him  carf. 
Of  this  tregede  it  ought  y-nough  sufflse  ; 
Who  so  wil  it  hiere  in  leiiger  wise, 
Rede  the  gret  poet  of  Itaile 
That  highte  Daunt,  for  he  can  it  devise, 
Fro  poynt  to  poynt  nought  oon  word  wii  he  fayle. 

De  Nerone. 

Although  Nero  were  als  vicious 

As  any  fend  that  lith  ful  lowe  adoun,  15950 

Tit  he,  as  tellith  us  Swethoneus, 
This  wyde  world  had  in  subjeccioun, 
Bothe  est  and  west  and  septemtrioun. 

15932.  querel.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  lias  ichele,  which  is  perhaps  the  tetter 
trading. 

15949.  Althour/h  Nero,  Although  Chaucer  quotes  Suetonius,  his  account  of 
Nero  is  really  taken  from  the  liomun  de  la  Rose,  and  from  Boethius  it  Con- 
solat.  I'hilos.,  lib.  ii.  met.  0. 

15953.  and  septemfruwn.  This  line  stands  as  here  printed  in  the  Hari.  and 
Lansd.  Mss.  Tyrwhitt  inserts  south  (south  and  septemtrion),  and  observes  : 
"The  iisij.  read  north;  but  there  cau  be  110  «loubt  of  the  propriety  of  the 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  469 


Of  rubies,  safers,  and  of  perles  white, 

Were  alle  his  clothes  embroudid  up  and  doun  ; 

For  he  in  gemmis  gretly  gari  delite. 

More  delycat,  more  pompous  of  array, 
More  proud  was  never  einperour  than  he. 
That  ylke  cloth  that  he  had  wered  a  day, 
After  that  tyme  he  nolde  it  never  se.  15960 

Nettis  of  gold  thred  had  he  gret  plente, 
To  fissche  in  Tyber,  whan  him  lust  to  pleye. 
His  willes  were  as  lawe  in  his  degre 
For  fortune  as  his  frerid  wold  him  obeye. 

He  Rome  brent  for  his  delicacie  ; 
The  senatours  he  slough  upon  a  day, 
To  here  how  men  wolde  wepe  and  crye  ; 
And  slough  his  brother,  and  by  his  suster  lay. 
His  modir  made  he  in  pitous  array, 

For  hire  wombe  slyt  he,  to  byholde  15970 

Wher  he  conceyved  was,  so  waylaway  ! 
That  he  so  litel  of  his  moodir  tokle. 

No  teer  out  of  his  eyen  for  that  sight 
Ne  came  ;  but  sayde,  a  fair  womman  was  sche 
Gret  wonder  is  that  he  couthe  or  might 
Be  domesman  on  hir  dede  beautt-. 
The  wyii  to  bringen  him  comaundid  he, 
And  drank  anoon,  noon  other  wo  he  made. 
Whan  might  is  toriied  unto  cruelte, 
Alias  !  to  deepe  wil  the  venym  wade.  15680 

In  youthe  a  maister  had  this  emperour, 
To  teche  him  letterure  and  curtesye ; 
For  of  moralite  he  was  the  Hour, 
And  in  his  tyme,  but  if  bokes  lye. 

correction,  which  was  made.  I  believe,  in  ed.  Urr.  In  the  Rom.  de  la  /?., 
from  whence  great  part  of  this  tragedy  of  .Nero  is  translated,  tlu.  passage 
stands  thus,  0501 : 

Ce  desloyal,  que  je  te  dy, 

Et  d'Orient,  et  de  M'ulij, 

D'Occident,  de  Septentrion, 

Tint-il  la  juridtiiciou." 

1596:5.  willes.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  has  /us/ex,  the  reading  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt 
I  am  inclined  to  prefer  the  reading  of  the  ilarl.  Ms.,  which  avoids  the  repeti' 
tion  of  the  previous  line. 

15970.  hire  wombe  s/yt  he.  So  the  Ilarl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  ;  Tyrwhitt  reads 
he  hire  wombe  let  slitte- 

15976.  on  hir  dt-de  bcaute.  Tin?  word  dftli-,  omitted  in  the  Ilarl.  Ms.  is  evi- 
dently necessary  for  the  sense  and  measure.  Chaucer  is  translating  the 
words  of  Boethiiis,  lib.  ii.  met.  0,— 

"  Ora  non  tir.xit  lacrymis,  sed  esse 

Censor  i-xtincli  potut  dci'oris  :" 

which  he  has  given  thus  in  his  prose  version  of  Roethins.  "  Ne  no  tere  wetta 
his  face,  but  he  was  so  harde  harted,  that  lie  might  be  domesmar),  or  judge, 
V  lier  iledde  ieautc."  In  both,  tlomi'mnan  represents  the  Latin  censor- 


470  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  whil  his  maister  had  of  him  inaistrie, 
He  made  him  so  connyng  and  so  souple, 
That  long  tyrne  it  was  or  tyrannye 
Or  ony  vice  dorst  on  him  uncouple. 

This  Seneca  of  which  that  I  devyse, 
Bycause  Nero  had  of  him  such  drede,  15980 

For  fro  vices  he  wol  him  chastise 
Discretly  as  by  word,  and  nought  by  dede. 
"Sir,"  wold  he  sayn,  "  an  emperour  mot  neede 
Be  vertuous  a,nd  hate  tyrannye." 
For  which  he  in  a  bath  made  him  to  bleede 
On  bothe  his  armes,  til  he  moste  dye. 

This  Nero  hadde  eek  a  custumance 
In  youthe  agein  his  maister  for  to  ryse, 
Which  after-ward  him  thought  a  gret  grevaunce  ; 
Therfore  he  made  him  deye  in  this  wise.  16000 

But  natheles  this  Seneca  the  wise 
Ohes  in  a  bath  to  deye  in  this  manere, 
Rather  than  to  have  another  tormentise  ; 
And  thus  hath  Nero  slayn  his  maister  deere. 

Now  fel  it  so  that  fortune  lust  no  lenger 
The  highe  pride  of  Nero  to  cherice  ; 
For  though  he  were  strong,  yit  was  sche  stronger, 
Sche  thoughte  thus,  "  By  God  !  I  am  to  nyce, 
To  set  a  man  that  is  ful  sad  of  vice 

In  high  degre,  and  emperour  him  calle  ;  16010 

By  God  !  out  of  his  sete  I  wil  him  trice  ; 
Whan  he  lest  weneth,  sonnest  schal  byfalle. 

The  poeple  ros  on  him  upon  a  night 
For  heigh  defaute,  and  whan  he  it  aspyed, 
Out  of  his  dores  anoon  he  hath  him  dight 
Aloone,  and  ther  he  wende  have  ben  allyed, 
He  knokked  fast ;  and  ay  the  more  he  cried, 
The  faster  schette  thay  the  dores  alle. 
Than  wist  he  wel  he  had  himself  mysgypd, 
And  went  his  way,  no  lenger  durst  he  callr,  16020 

The  peple  cried,  arid  rumbled  up  and  doun, 
That  with  his  eris  herd  he  how  thay  sayde, 
"  Her  is  this  fals  traitour,  this  Neroun  !  " 
For  fere  almost  out  of  his  witte  he  brayde, 
And  to  his  goddes  pitously  he  prayde 
For  socour,  but  it  mighte  nought  betyde  : 
For  drede  of  this  him  thoughte  that  he  dyde, 

16003.  Inrmentlse.  I  have  substituted  this  reading  from  Tyrwhitt,  in  place 
of  that  of  the  Harl.  Ms.,  ti/raniiir.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  has  tormentrie. 

10009.  sad.  The  Laiisd.  Ms.  reads  ful  Jillcd,  which  is  the  reading  adopted 
t»y  Tyrwhitt. 


TJJE  MONRE8  TALE.  471 


And  ran  into  a  gardyn  him  to  hyde. 

And  in  this  gardyn  fond  he  cherlis  twaye 
Sittynge  by  a  fuyr  ful  greet  and  reed.  16030 

And  to  these  cherles  tuo  he  gari  to  praye 
To  sleen  him,  and  to  girden  of  his  heed, 
That  to  his  body,  whan  that  he  were  deed, 
Were  no  despyt  y-doon  for  his  defame. 
Himself  he  slough,  he  couthe  no  better  reed  ; 
Of  which  fortune  thai  lough  and  hadde  game. 

De  Olipherno, 

Was  never  capitaigne  under  a  king 
That  regnes  mo  put  in  subjeccioun, 
Ne  strenger  was  in  feld  of  alle  thing 
As  in  his  tyme,  ne  gretter  of  renoun,  16040 

Ne  more  pompous  in  heih  presumpcioun, 
Than  Oliphern,  which  that  fortune  ay  kist 
So  licorously,  and  ladde  him  up  and  doun, 
Til  that  his  heed  was  of,  er  he  it  wist. 

Nought  oonly  that  the  world  had  of  him  awe, 
For  lesyng  of  riches  and  liberte, 
But  he  made  every  man  reneye  his  lawe  ; 
Nabugodonosor  was  lord,  sayde  he ; 
Noon  other  god  schuld  honoured  be. 
Ageinst  his  heste  dar  no  wight  trespace,  16050 

Save  in  Betholia,  a  strong  cite, 
Wher  Eliachim  a  prest  was  of  that  place. 

But  tak  keep  of  that  dethe  of  Olipherne  ; 
Arnyd  his  ost  he  dronke  lay  on  night 
Withinne  his  tente,  large  as  is  a  berne, 
And  yit,  for  all  his  pomp  and  al  his  might, 
Judith,  a  womman,  as  he  lay  upright 
Slepying,  his  heed  of  smot,  and  fro  his  tent 
Ful  prively  sche  stal  from  every  wight, 
And  with  his  heed  unto  liir  toun  sche  went.  1G060 

De  rege  Antiochie  iUustri. 

What  needith  it  of  king  Antiochius, 
To  telle  his  heye  real  rnageste, 

1G037.  Jf'a.f  never  capitaignc.  This  story  is  of  course  Taken  from  the  bo#k 
of  Judith.  Tyrwhitt  has  committed  a  singular  oversight  in  las  note  online 
160;J7, — "I  cannot  rind  any  priest,  of  this  name  (Eliachiiin  in  the  book  of 
Judith.  The  high  priest  ol  Jerusalem  is  called  Joachim  in  c.  iv.,  which  name 
would  suit  the  verse  better  than  Kliachim."  In  the  vulgate  Latin  version  of 
the  book  of  Judith,  which,  of  course,  was  the  one  used  by  Chaucer,  the  high 
priest's  name  is  Kliiichim. 

ICuGl.  king  Antiochius.     This  story  is  taken  from  2  Maccabees,  c.  ix. 


472  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

His  heyhe  pride,  his  werke  venemous  ? 
For  such  another  was  ther  noon  as  he. 
Redeth  which  that  he  was  in  Machabe, 
And  redith  the  proude  wordes  that  he  sayie, 
And  why  he  fel  fro  his  prosperite, 
And  in  an  hil  how  wrecchidly  he  deyde. 

Fortune  him  hath  enhaunced  so  in  pryde, 
That  verraily  he  wend  he  might  atteyne  10070 

Unto  the  sterns   upon  every  syde  ; 
And  in  a  balaun.ce  weyen  ech  mounteyne  ; 
And  alle  the  floodes  of  the  see  restreyne. 
And  Goddes  peple  had  he  most  in  hate  • 
Hem  wold  he  slee  in  torment  and  in  peyne, 
Wenyng  that  God  ne  might  his  pride  abate. 

And  for  that  Nichanor  and  Thimothe 
With  Jewes  were  veriquist  mightily, 
Unto  the  Jewes  such  an  hate  had  he, 
That  he  bad  graithe  his  chaar  hastily,  16080 

And  swor,  and  sayde  ful  despitously, 
Unto  Jerusalem  he  wold  eftsoone, 
To  wreke  his  ire  on  it  full  cruelly  ; 
But  of  his  purpos  he  was  let  ful  soone. 

God,  for  his  manace,  him  so  sore  smoot 
With  invisible  wounde  incurable, 
That  in  his  guttes  carf  it  so  and  bot, 
That  his  peynes  were  importable. 
And  certeynly  the  wreche  was  resonable  ; 
For  many  a  marines  guttes  dede  he  peyne  ;  1G090 

But  fro  his  purpos  cursed  and  dampnable, 
For  al  his  smert,  he  nolde  him  nought  restreyne. 

But  bad  anoon  apparaileri  his  host, 
And  sodeynly,  er  he  was  of  it  ware, 
God  daunted  al  his  pride  and  al  his  bost 
For  he  so  sore  fel  out  of  his  chare. 
That  it  his  lymes  and  his  skyn  to-tare, 
So  that  he  nomore  might  go  ne  ryde  ; 
But  in  a  chare  men  aboute  him  bare 
Al  for-brosed,  bothe  bak  and  syde.  1610C 

The  wreche  of  God  him  smot  so  cruely, 
That  in  his  body  wicked  wormes  crept, 
And  therwithal  he  stonk  so  orribly, 
That  noon  of  al  his  meyne  that  him  kepte, 
Whether  that  he  wook  or  elles  slepte, 
Ne  mighte  nought  the  stynk  of  him  endure. 

16072.  atteyne.  16072.  irfi/en  ech  mounteyne.  I  have  not  hesitated  in  cor 
recting  the  Had.  Ms.  in  this  instance  by  'others  ;  the  former  reads,  by  ac 
evident  error  of  the  scribe,  hacc  tcynal  and  iceyen  tvhct  ech  mounteyned. 


THE  MONKES  TALK  473 

In  this  meschief  he  weyled  and  eek  wepte, 
And  knew  God  lord  of  every  creature. 

To  al  his  host  and  to  himself  also 

Ful  wlatsom  was  tho  styrik  of  his  carayne  ;  16110 

No  man  ne  might  him  bere  to  ne  fro  ; 
And  in  his  stynk  and  his  orrible  payne 
He  starf  ful  wrecchedly  in  a  mountayne. 
Thus  hath  this  robbour  and  this  homicide, 
That  many  a  man  made  wepe  and  playne, 
Such  guerdoun  as  that  longeth  unto  pryde. 

De  Alexandra  Magno,  Philippi  regis  Macedonia  Jllio. 

The  story  of  Alisaunder  is  so  comune, 
That  every  wight  that  hath  discrecioun 
Hath  herd  som-what  or  al  of  this  fortune; 
Thys  wyde  world  as  in  conclusioun  16120 

He  wan  by  strengthe,  or  for  his  heigh  renoun, 
Thay  were  glad  for  pees  unto  him  seride. 
The  pride  of  man  and  bost  he  layd  adoun, 
Wher  so  he  cam,  unto  the  worldes  ende. 

Comparisoun  yit  mighte  never  be  maked 
Bitwen  him  and  noon  other  conquerour; 
For  al  this  world  for  drede  of  him  hath  quaked. 
He  was  of  knyghthod  and  of  fredam  flour ; 
Fortune  him  made  the  heir  of  hir  honour  ; 
Save  wyn  and  wymmen,  no  thing  might  aswage  16130 
His  heigh  entent  in  armes  and  labour, 
So  was  he  ful  of  leonyne  corage. 

What  pitc  were  it  to  him,  though  I  yow  tolde 
Of  Darius,  and  an  hundred  thousand  mo 
Of  kynges,  princes,  dukes,  and  eorles  bolde, 
Which  he  conquered  and  brought  unto  wo  ? 
I  say,  as  fer  as  men  may  ryde  or  go, 
The  world  was  his,  what  schold  I  more  devyse  ? 
For  though  I  write  or  tolde  you  evermo, 
Of  his  knighthood  it  mighte  nought  suilise.  16140 

Twelf  yer  he  regned,  as  saith  Machabu  ; 
Piiilippes  son  of  Macedon  he  was, 
That  first  was  king  in  Grrece  that  contro. 
()  worthy  gentil  Alisaundre,  alas  ! 
That  ever  schulde  falle  such  a  caas! 
Empoysoned  of  thin  oughne  folk  thou  were  ; 
Thyn  sis  fortune  is  torned  into  an  aas, 

1013?.  l/'ni/iie.  I  have  adopted  Ibis  reading  from  Tyrwhitt.  That  of  the 
Hirl.  Ms.,  'tint i/ in',  seems  to  make  no  Bunse,  ii'id  tho  reading  of  tho  Lansd, 
Ms.,  loctinye,  is  no  better. 


474  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  right  for  the  ne  wepte  sche  never  a  teere. 

Who  schal  me  give  teeres  to  compleigne 
The  deth  of  gentiles  and  of  fraunchise,  16150 

That  al  the  worlde  had  in  his  demeigne  ; 
And  yit  him  thought  it  niighte  nought  suffice, 
So  ful  was  his  corage  of  high  emprise. 
Alias  !   who  schal  helpe  me  to  endite 
Fals  infortune,  and  poysoun  to  devyse, 
The  whiche  two  of  al  this  wo  I  wyte. 

Julius  Cesar. 

By  wisedom,  manhod,  and  by  gret  labour, 
Fro  humblehede  to  royal  mageste 
Up  roos  he,  Julius  the  conquerour, 
That  wan  al  thoccident  by  land  and  see,  161(50 

By  strengthe  of  hond  or  elles  by  trete, 
And  unto  Rome  made  hem  contributarie, 
And  siththe  of  Rome  themperour  was  he, 
Til  that  fortune  wax  his  adversarie. 

O  mighty  Cesar,  that  in  Thessalie 
Agains  Pompeus,  fader  thin  in  lawe, 
That  of  the  orient  had  al  the  chivalrie, 
Als  fer  as  that  the  day  bigynnes  to  dawe, 
Thorugh  thi  kriighthod  thou  hast  him  take  and  slawe, 
Save  fewe  folk  that  with  Pompeus  fledde  ;  16170 

Thurgh  which  thou  puttist  al  thorient  in  awe  ; 
Thanke  fortune  that  so  wel  the  spedde. 

But  now  a  litel  while  I  wil  bywaile 
This  Pompeus,  the  noble  governour 
Of  Rome,  which  that  flowe  fro  this  bataile  ; 
Alas  !  I  say,  oon  of  his  men,  a  fals  traitour, 
His  heed  of  smoot,  to  wynne  his  favour 
Of  Julius,  and  him  the  heed  he  brought. 
Alas  !  Pompeus,  of  the  orient  conquerour, 
That  fortune  to  such  a  fyn  the  brought.  16180 

To  Rome  agayn  repaireth  Julius, 
With  his  triumphe  laurial  ful  hye. 
But  on  a  tyme  Brutus  and  Cassius, 
That  ever  had  to  his  estat  envye, 
Ful  prively  hath  made  conspiracie 
Agains  this  Julius  in  subtil  wise ; 
And  cast  the  place  in  which  he  schulde  dye 
With  boydekyns,  as  I  schal  yow  devyse. 

This  Julius  to  the  capitoile  went 

Upon  a  day,  as  he  was  wont  to  goon  j  16190 

And  iu  the  capitoil  anoon  him  hent 


THE  MONKES  TALE.  475 

This  false  Brutus,  and  his  other  foon, 

And  stiked  him  with  boydekyns  anoon 

With  many  a  wounde,  arid  thus  thay  let  him  lye, 

But  never  grout  he  at  no  strook  but  oon, 

Or  elles  at  tuo,  but  if  the  storie  lye. 

So  manly  was  this  Julius  of  hert, 
And  so  wel  loved  estatly  honeste, 
That  though  his  deadly  woundes  sore  smert, 
His  mantil  over  his  hipes  caste  he,  16200 

For  no  man  schulde  seen  his  privete. 
And  as  he  lay  deyirige  in  a  traunce, 
And  wiste  wel  that  verrayly  deed  was  he, 
Of  honeste  yet  had  he  remembraunce. 

Lucan,  to  the  this  story  I  recomende, 
And  to  Swetouii  and  to  Valirius  also, 
That  al  the  story  writen  word  arid  eride, 
How  to  these  grete  conqueroures  tuo 
Fortune  was  first  frend  and  siththen  fo. 
No  man  trust  upon  hir  favour  longe,  16210 

But  have  hir  in  awayt  for  evermo, 
Witnesse  on  alle  thise  conqueroures  stronge. 

Cresus. 

This  riche  Cresus,  whilom  king  of  Lyde, 
Of  which  Cresus  Cirus  him  sore  dradde, 
Yet  was  he  caught  amyddes  al  his  pride, 
And  to  the  fuyr  to  brenne  him  men  him  ladde. 
But  such  a  rayn  doun  fro  the  heven  schadde, 
That  slough  the  fuyr  and  made  him  to  eschape. 
But  to  be  war  yet  grace  noon  he  hadde, 
Til  fortune  on  the  galwes  made  him  gape.  16230 

Whan  he  was  eschaped,  he  coiith  nought  sterit 
For  to  bygynne  a  newe  werre  agayn  ; 
lie  weiule  wel,  for  that  fortune  him  sent 
Such  hap  that  he  eschaped  thurgh  the  rayn, 
That  of  his  foos  he  mighte  not  be  slayn. 
And  eek  a  sweven  upon  a  night  he  ruette, 
Of  which  he  was  so  proud  and  eek  so  fayn, 
That  in  vengeauiice  he  al  his  herte  sette. 

Upon  a  tree  he  was  set,  as  him  thought, 

16213.  Crr.xus.  The  Harl.  Ms.  has  (i  resits  all  through,  which  T  have  nf>\ 
thought  it  necessary  to  retain.  Tynvliitt  observes  that, — •'  In  the  opening  of 
this  story,  our  author  has  plainly  copied  the  following  pas-sage  of  his  own 
version  of  Hoethius,  15.  ii.  Pro.  'I  :  '  Wiste  thou  not  how  Cresus,  king  of 
I.ydiens.  of  wlncliv.  kin;/  Cyrus  was f  til  sore  a<iast<-  a  litel  before,  etc.'  But  tha 
greatest  part  is  taken  from  the  Knnt.  </<•  la  Itose,  ver.  6*47— C.lilL'." 

1&J17.  Itcrcn,    Th3  i-ansil.  .Ms.  has  iratkyn,  and  TyrwhiU  icelke.n. 


476  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Wher  Jubiter  him  wissch  bothe  bak  and  side,        16230 

And  Phebus  eek  a  fair  towail  him  brought 

To  drye  him  with,  arid  therfore  wax  his  pride  ; 

And  to  his  doughter  that  stood  him  biside, 

Which  that  he  knew  in  heigh  science  abounde, 

And  bad  hire  telle  what  it  signifyde, 

And  sche  his  dreem  right  thus  gan  expounde. 

"  The  tree,"  quod  sche,  "  the  galwes  is  to  mene. 
And  Jubiter  betokenith  snow  and  rayn, 
And  Phebus  with  his  towail  so  elene, 
Tho  ben  the  sorine  stremes,  soth  to  sayn.  1G240 

Thow  schalt  enhangid  ben,  fader,  certayn  ; 
Rayn  shal  the  wasch,  and  sonne  schal  the  drye." 
Thus  warned  sche  him  ful  plat  and  ek  ful  playn, 
His  doughter,  which  that  called  was  Phanie. 

And  hanged  was  Cresus  this  proude  king, 
His  real  trone  might  him  not  availe. 
Tregedis,  ne  noon  other  maner  thing, 
lsTe  can  I  synge,  crie,  ny  biwayle, 
But  for  that  fortune  wil  alway  assayle 
With  unwar  strook  the  regnes  that  ben  proude ;  16250 
For  whan  men  trusteth  hir,  than  wil  sche  faile, 
And  cover  hir  brighte  face  with  a  clowde. 

THE  PROLOGE  OF  THE  NOXNE  PRESTES  TALK. 

"  Ho,  sire !  "  quod  the  night    "  no  more  of  this  ; 
That  ye  han  said  is  right  y-nough  y-wys, 
And  mochil  mor ;  for  litel  hevynesse 
Is  right  i-nough  for  moche  folk,  I  gesse. 
I  say  for  me,  it  is  a  gret  disease, 
Wher  as  men  han  ben  in  gret  welthe  and  ease, 
To  hieren  of  her  sodeyn  fal,  alias  ! 

And  tlie  contraire  is  joye  and  gret  solas;  16260 

As  whan  a  man  hath  ben  in  pore  estate, 
And  clymbith  up,  and  wexeth  fortunate, 
And  the.  abydeth  in  prosperitc  ; 
Such  thing  is  gladsom,  and  it  thinkith  me, 
And  of  such  thing  were  goodly  for  to  telle." 


16247.   Tregedis.     These  two  lines  are  given  differently  In  Tyrwhitt,  and 
perhaps  better,  as  follows  : 

"  Tragedie  is  none  other  maner  thing, 
Ne  can  in  singing  erien  ne  bewaile." 

And  he  observes,  "  This  reflection  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  one  which 
follows  soon  after  the  mention  of  Croesus  in  the  passage  jusl  cited  from  Boe- 
llmis.  '  What  other  thing  bewaylen  the  cryinges  of  tragedyes  but  onely  tlie 
dedes  of  fortune,  that  with  an  aukewarde  struku  ovei'tournetb.  the  realmeB  o* 
grete  nobleye  /'  " 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  NONNE  PRESTES  TALE.   477 

"  Ye,"  quod  oure  host,  "  by  seint  Paules  belle, 

Ye  say  right  soth  ;  this  monk  hath  clappid  lowde 

He  spak,  how  fortune  was  clipped  with  a  clov/de 

I  not  never  what,  and  als  of  tregedie 

Right  now  ye  herd  ;  and  pardy  !  no  remedye         16270 

It  is  for  to  bywayle  or  compleyne 

That  that  is  doon  ;  and  also  it  is  a  peyne, 

As  ye  han  said,  to  hiere  of  hevynesse. 

8ire  monk,  no  more  of  this,  so  God  yow  blesse  \ 

Your  tale  anoyeth  al  this  compaignie  ; 

Such  talkyng  is  nought  worth  a  boterliye, 

For  therinne  is  noon  disport  ne  game. 

Wherfor,  sir  monk,  damp  Pieres  by  your  name, 

I  pray  yow  hertly,  tel  us  somewhat  ellis, 

For  sicurly,  ner  gingling  of  the  bellis  J628 

That  on  your  bridil  hong  on  every  syde, 

By  heven  king,  that  for  us  alle  dyde, 

I  schold  er  this  han  falle  doun  for  sleep  ; 

Although  the  slough  had  never  ben  so  deep ; 

Than  had  your  tale  have  be  told  in  vayn. 

For  certeynly,  as  these  clerkes  sayn, 

Wher  as  a  man  may  have  noon  audience, 

Nought  helpith  it  to  tellen  his  sentence. 

And  wel  I  wot  the  substance  is  in  me, 

If  eny  thing  schal  wel  reported  be.  16290 

Sir,  say  somwhat  of  huntyng,  I  yow  pray." 

"  Nay,"  quod  the  monk,  "  I  have  ho  lust  to  play  ; 

Now  let  another  telle,  as  I  have  told." 

Then  spak  our  ost  with  rude  speche  and  bold, 
And  said  unto  the  rionnes  prest  anoon, 
"Com  ner,  thou  prest,  com  ner,  thou  sir  Johan, 
Tel  us  such  thing  as  may  our  hertes  glade  ; 
Be  blithe,  although  thou  ryde  upon  a  jade. 
What  though  thin  hors  be  bothe  foul  and  lene  ? 
If  he  wil  serve  the,  rek  not  a  bene  ;  16300 

Lok  that  thin  hert  be  mery  evermo." 
''  Yis,  sire,  vis,  hoste,"  qnod  he,  "  so  mot  I  go, 
But  I  be  mery,  i-wis  I  wol  be  blamed." 
And  right  anoon  he  hath  his  tale  tamyd ; 
And  thus  he  sayd  unto  us  everichoon. 
This  sweete  prest,  this  goodly  man  sir  Johan. 

J6268.  was  clipped.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  covered  was,  wliii'h  is  adopted 
•y  TynvLitt. 

16280.  gingling.  The  I,ansd.  Ms.  reads  clynkeing,  the  reading  whicb  Tyr 
wbitt  adopts.  Compare,  however,  the  Prologue,  1.  170,  and  the  nota. 


478  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


THE  NOXXK  PRESTES   TALK. 

A  PORE  wydow,  somdel  stope  in  age, 

Was  whilom  duellyng  in  a  pore  cotage, 

Bisyde  a  grove,  stondyng  in  a  dale. 

This  wydowe,  of  which  I  telle  yow  my  tale,  16310 

Syn  thilke  day  that  sche  was  last  a  wif, 

In  paciens  ladde  a  ful  symple  lyf. 

For  litel  was  hir  catel  and  hir  rent ; 

For  housbondry  of  such  as  God  hir  sent, 

Sche  fond  hirself,  arid  eek  hir  doughtres  tuo. 

Thre  large  sowes  had  sche,  and  no  mo, 

Thre  kyn,  and  eek  a  scheep  that  highte  Malle. 

Ful  sooty  was  hir  bour,  and  eek  hir  halle, 

In  which  sche  eet  ful  many  a  sclender  nieel. 

Of  poynaunt  saws  hir  needid  never  a  deel.  16320 

Noon  deynteth  morsel  passid  thorugh  hir  throte  ; 

Hir  dyete  was  accordant  to  hir  cote. 

Ilepleccioun  ne  made  hir  never  sik  ; 

Attempre  dyete  was  al  hir  phisik, 

And  exercise,  and  hertes  sufflsaunce. 

The  goute  lette  hir  nothing  for  to  daunce, 

Ne  poplexie  schente  not  hir  heed  ; 

No  wyn  ne  drank  sche,  nother  whit  ne  reed  ; 

Hir  bord  was  servyd  most  with  whit  and  blak,       16329 

Milk  and  broun  bred,  in  which  sche  fond  110  lak, 

Saynd  bacouri,  and  soni  tyme  an  ey  or  tweye  ; 

For  sche  was  as  it  were  a  maner  deye. 

A  yerd  sche  had,  enclosed  al  aboute 

With  stikkes,  and  a  drye  dich  withoute, 

In  which  sche  had  a  cok,  hight  Chaunteclero, 

In  al  the  lond  of  crowyng  was  noon  his  peere. 

His  vois  was  merier  than  the  mery  orgoii, 

On  masse  dayes  that  in  the  chirche  goon  ; 

Wei  sikerer  was  his  crowyng  in  his  logge, 

Than  is. a  clok,  or  an  abbay  orologge.  16340 

By  nature  knew  he  ech  ascencioun 

Of  equinoxial  in  thilke  toun  ; 

For  whan  degrees  fyftene  were  ascendid, 

Thanne  crewe  he,  it  might  not  ben  amendid. 

The  unnne  prext  his  l-tle.  This  tale  was  taken  from  the  fifth  chapter  of 
the  old  French  metrical  Rinnan  <h-  Jtenart,  entitled  .si  cot/me  lienart  prist 
Chantecler  le  coc  (ed.  Meon.  torn.  i.  p.  4!f).  The  same  story  forms  one  of  the 
bubli's  of  Marie  of  France,  when-  it  stands  as  fab.  51,  JJoil  coc  et  dou  totiyil: 
itc.  Koquefort'fl  cditioa  of  the  works  of  -Marie,  torn.  ii.  i>.  ^-JO, 


THE  NONNE  PRESTES  TALE. 


His  comb  was  redder  than  the  fyn  coral, 

And  batayld,  as  it  were  a  castel  wal. 

His  bile  was  blak,  and  as  the  geet  it  schon  j 

Lik  asur  were  his  legges  and  his  ton  ; 

His  nayles  whitter  than  the  lily  flour, 

And  like  the  bnrnischt  gold  was  his  colour.  16350 

This  gentil  cok  had  in  his  governaunce 

Seven  honnes,  for  to  do  al  his  plesaunce, 

Whiche  were  his  sustres  and  his  paramoures, 

And  wonder  like  to  him,  as  of  coloures. 

Of  whiche  the  fairest  hie  wed  on  hir  throte, 

Was  cleped  fayre  damysel  Pertilote. 

Curteys  sche  was,  discret,  and  debonaire, 

And  companable,  and  bar  hirself  ful  faire, 

Syu  thilke  day  that  sche  was  seven  night  old, 

That  sche  hath  trewely  the  hert  in  hold  16366 

Of  Cliaunteclere  loken  in  every  lith  ; 

lie  loved  hir  so,  that  wel  him  was  therwith. 

But  such  a  joye  was  it  to  here  him  synge, 

Whan  that  the  brighte  sonne  gan  to  springe, 

In  swete  accord,   "  my  liefe  is  faren  on  londe." 

Fro  thilke  tyine,  as  I  have  understonde, 
Bestis  and  briddes  cowde  speke  and  synge. 
And  so  byfel,  that  in  a  dawenynge, 
As  Chaunteclere  among  his  wyves  alle 
Sat  011  his  perche,  that  was  in  his  halle,  18370 

And  next  him  sat  this  faire  Pertelote, 
This  Chauntecler  gan  gronen  in  his  throte, 
As  man  that  in  his  dreem  is  drecched  sore. 
And  whan  that  Pertelot  thus  herd  him  rore« 
Sche  was  agast,  and  sayde,  "  herte  deere, 
What  eylith  vow  to  grone  in  this  manere  ? 
Ye  ben  a  verray  sleper,  fy  for  schame  ! " 
And  he  answerd  and  sayde  thus,   "  Madame, 
I  pray  vow,  that  ye  take  it  nought  agreef  : 
By  God,  me  mette  I  was  in  such  meschief  16380 

Right  now,  that  yit  myn  hert  is  sore  afright. 
Now  God,"  quod  he,   "  my  sweven  rede  arighcB 
And  keep  my  body  out  of  foul  prisoun  ! 
Me  mette,  how  that  I  romed  up  and  doun 
Withinne  oure  yerd,  wher  as  I  saugh  a  beest, 
Was  lik  an  hound,  and  wold  have  maad  arrest 
Upon  my  body,  and  wold  han  had  me  deed. 
His  colour  was  bitwixe  yolow  and  reed  ; 
And  tipped  was  his  tail,  and  bothc  his  eeres 

1«309.  gei>i-n  niyhl.     I  adopt  this  reading  from  the  Lansd.  Ms.  ;  the  reading 
vt  Ute  t*arl,  Ms.  siren  ycr  is  certainly  wrung. 


480  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

With  blak,  unlik  the  remenaunt  of  his  heres.        16390 
His  snowt  was  snial,  with  glowyng  yen  tweye  ; 
Yet  of  liis  look  for  fer  almost  I  deye  ; 
This  caused  me  my  gronyng  doubles." 
"  Away  ! "  quod  sche,  "  fy  on  yow,  herteles  ! 
Alias  !  "  quod  sche,  "  for,  by  that  God  above  t 
Now  have  ye  lost  myn  hert  and  al  my  love  j 
I  can  nought  love  a  coward,  by  my  feith. 
For  certes,  what  soeny  womman  seith, 
We  alle  desiren,  if  it  might  be, 

To  have  housbondes,  hardy,  riche,  and  fre,  16400 

And  secre,  and  no  nygard,  ne  no  fool, 
Ne  him  that  is  agast  of  every  tool, 
Ne  noon  avaunter,  by  that  God  above  ! 
How  dorst  ye  sayri  for  schame  unto  your  love, 
That  any  thing  might  make  yow  afferd  ? 
Have  ye  no  mannes  hert,  and  han  a  berd  ? 
Alias!  and  can  ye  ben  agast  of  swevenys  ? 
Nought,  God  wot,  but  vanite,  in  swevenis. 
Swevens  engendrid  ben  of  replecciouns, 
And  often  of  fume,  and  of  complexiouns,  16140 

.  Whan  humours  ben  to  abundaunt  in  a  wight. 
Certes  this  dreem,  which  ye  han  met  to-night, 
Cometh  of  the  grete  superfluite 
Of  youre  reede  colera,  parde, 
Which  causeth  folk  to  dremen  in  here  dremes 
Of  arwes,  and  of  fuyr  with  reede  beemes, 
Of  rede  bestis,  that  thai  wil  him  byte, 
Of  contek,  and  of  whelpis  greet  and  lite  ; 
Right  as  the  humour  of  malencolie 
Causeth,  in  sleep,  ful  many  a  man  to  crye,  16420 

For  fere  of  beres,  or  of  boles  blake, 
Or  elles  blake  develes  wol  hem  take. 
Of  other  humours  couthe  I  telle  also, 
That  wirken  many  a  man  in  slep  ful  woo ; 
But  I  wol  passe  as  lightly  as  I  can. 
Lo  Catoun,  which  that  was  so  wis  a  man, 
Sayde  he  nought  thus,  ne  do  no  force  of  dremes  ? 
Now,  sire,"  quod  sche,  "  whan  we  fle  frothise  beemes, 
For  Goddis  love,  as  tak  sorn  laxatyf  ; 
Up  peril  of  my  soule,  and  of  my  lyf,  16430 

I  counsel  yow  the  best,  I  wol  not  lye, 
That  bothe  of  coloure,  and  of  malencolye 

16426.  Lo  Catoun.  Ca'o  de  Moribus..  1.  ii.  (list.  32,  Somnia  ne  cures.  "1  ob- 
terve,  by  the  way.  that  this  distich  is  quoted  by  John  of  Salisbury,  f'oh/crat. 
1.  ii.  c.  16,  as  a  precept  riri  sapient  is.  In  another  |>l;;ce.  1.  vii.  c.  9,  he  intro- 
duces hie  quotation  of  the  first  verse  of  dist.  20, 1.  iii.  in  this  manner,  Ait  vei 
Cato,  vd  alius,  naui  autor  incertus  tst."—Tyrwhtit. 


THE  NONNE  PliESTES  TALK.  461 

Ye  purge  yow ;  and  for  ye  schol  nought  tarye, 

Though  in  this  toun  is  noon  apotecarie, 

I  Bchal  myself  tuo  herhes  techyn  yow, 

That  schal  be  for  your  hele,  and  for  youre  prow  ; 

And  in  on  re  yerd  tho  herbes  schal  I  fynde, 

The  whiche  han  of  her  proprete  by  kynde 

To  purgen  yow  bynethe,  and  eek  above. 

Forget  not  this,  for  Croddis  oughne  love  !  16440 

Ye  ben  ful  colerik  of  coniplexioun  ; 

Ware  the  sonne  in  his  ascencioun 

Ne  fynd  yow  not  replet  in  humours  hote; 

And  if  it  do,  I  dar  wel  lay  a  grote, 

That  ye  schul  have  a  fever  terciane, 

Or  an  agu,  that  may  be  youre  bane. 

A  day  or  tuo  ye  schul  have  digestives 

Of  wormes,  or  ye  take  your  laxatives, 

Of  lauriol,  century,  and  fumytere, 

Or  elles  of  elder  bery,  that  growith  there,  1041)0 

Of  catapus,  or  of  gaytre  beriis, 

Of  erbe  yve  that  groweth  in  our  yerd,  the  mercy  is  ; 

Pike  hem  up  right  as  thay  growe,  and  et  hem  in. 

Be  mery,  housbond,  for  your  fader  kyn  ; 

Dredith  non  dremes  :  I  can  say  no  more." 

"  Madame,"  quod  he,  "  graunt  mercy  of  your  lore. 

But  natheles,  as  touching  daun  Catoun, 

That  hath  of  wisdom  such  a  gret  renoun, 

Though  that  he  had  no  dremes  for  to  drede, 

By  God,  men  may  in  olde  bookes  rede  16460 

Of  many  a  man,  more  of  auctorite 

Than  ever  Catoun  was,  so  mot  I  the, 

That  al  the  revers  sayn  of  his  sentence. 

And  han  wel  founden  by  experience. 

That  dremes  ben  significaciouns 

As  wel  of  joye,  as  of  tribulaciouns, 

That  folk  enduren  in  this  lif  present. 

Ther  nedeth  make  of  this  noon  argument ; 

The  verray  preve  schewith  it  in  dede. 

Oon  of  the  grettest  auctours  that  men  rede,  16470 

Saith  thus,  that  whilom  tway  felawes  wente 

16432-3.  These  two  lines,  omitted  in  the  Harl.  Ms.  by  an  oversight  of  th« 
•eribe,  are  here  inscribed  from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

16450.  elder  b<Tij.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  Ms.  The  Lansd.  Ms. 
has  vloborc,  and  Tyrwhitt  vllcber. 


•eoond  hand,  if  it  were  not  usual  with  Chaucer,  in  these  stories  <>f  fam 
life,  to  throw  in  a  number  of  natural  circumstances,  not  to  be  found  i 
•rijjinal  authors." — Tyrwhitt. 


482  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

On  pylgrimage  in  a  ful  good  entente  ; 

And  happed  so,  thay  com  into  a  toun, 

Wher  as  ther  was  such  congregacioun 

Of  poeple,  and  eek  so  streyt  of  herbergage, 

That  thay  fond  nought  as  moche  as  oon  cotage, 

In  which  that  thay  might  bothe  i-logged  be. 

Wherfor  thay  inosten  of  necessite, 

As  for  that  night,  depart  her  compaignye  ; 

And  ech  of  hem  goth  to  his  hostelrye,  1648C 

Arid  took  his  loggyng  as  it  wolde  falle. 

That  oon  of  hem  was  loggid  in  a  stalle, 

Fer  in  a  yerd,  with  oxen  of  the  plough  ; 

That  other  man  was  logged  wel  y-nough, 

As  was  his  adventure,  or  his  fortune, 

That  us  governith  alle  in  comune. 

And  so  bifel,  that,  long  er  it  were  day, 

Tins  oon  met  in  his  bed,  ther  as  he  lay, 

How  that  his  felaw  gan  upon  him  calle, 

And  sayd,  '  alas  !  for  in  an  oxe  stalle  16190 

This  night  I  schal  be  murdrid  ther  I  lye. 

Now  help  me,  deere  brother,  or  I  dye  j 

In  alle  haste  cum  to  me,'  he  sayde. 

This  man  out  of  his  slep  for  fer  abrayde  ; 

But  whan  that  he  was  waked  out  of  his  sleep, 

He  torned  him,  and  took  of  this  no  keep  ; 

Him  thought  his  dreem  rias  but  a  vanite. 

Thus  twies  in  his  sleepe  dremed  he. 

Arid  at  the  thridde  tyme  yet  his  felawe  10500 

Com,  as  him  thought,  and  sayd,  '  I  am  now  slawe  ; 

fJihold  my  bloody  wourides,  deep  and  wyde. 

Arise  up  erly  in  the  morwe  tyde, 

A.nd  at  the  west  gate  of  the  toun,'  quod  he, 

'  A  cart  of  donge  there  schalt  thou  see, 

In  which  my  body  is  hyd  prively. 

Do  thilke  cart  arresten  boldely. 

My  gold  caused  my  mourdre,  soth  to  sayn.' 

And  told  him  every  poynt  how  he  was  slayn, 

With  a  ful  pitous  face,  pale  of  hewe. 

And  truste  wel,  his  dreem  he  fond  ful  trewe.  1651t 

For  on  the  morwe,  us  sone  as  it  was  day, 

To  his  felawes  in  he  took  the  way  ; 

And  whan  that  he  cam  to  this  oxe  stalle, 

After  his  felaw  he  bigari  to  calle. 

The  hostiller  answered  him  arioon, 

And  sayde,  '  Sire,  your  felaw  is  agoon, 

Als  soone  as  day  he  went  out  of  the  toun.' 

This  man  gan  falle  in  a  suspeccioun, 


THE  NONNE  PRESTES  TALE.  483 

Reinembring  on  his  dremes  that  he  niette, 

And  forth  he  goth,  no  lenger  wold  he  lette,  16520 

Unto  the  west  gate  of  the  touii,  and  fond 

A  dong  cart  went  as  it  were  to  donge  lond, 

That  was  arrayed  in  the  same  wise 

As  ye  han  herd  the  deede  man  devise  ; 

And  with  an  hardy  liert  he  gan  to  crie 

Vengeaunce  and  justice  of  thi-  felonye. 

'  My  felaw  mordrid  in  this  same  night, 

And  in  this  carte  he  lith  heer  upright. 

1  crye  out  on  the  ministres,'  quod  he, 

'  That  schulpe  kepe  and  reule  this  cite  :  16580 

Harrow  !  alias  !  her  lith  my  felaw  slayn  1 ' 

What  schold  I  more  unto  this  tale  sayn  ? 

The  peple  upstert,  and  caste  the  cart  to  grounde, 

And  in  the  middes  of  the  dorig  thay  founde 

The  dede  man,  that  mordred  was  al  newe. 

O  blisful  God,  thou  art  ful  just  and  trewe, 

Lo,  how  thow  bywreyest  mordre  alday. 

Mordre  wil  out,  certes  it  is  no  nay. 

Morder  is  so  wlatsom  and  abhominable 

To  God,  that  is  so  just  and  resonable,  16540 

That  he  ne  wold  nought  sullre  it  hiled  be  ; 

Though  it  abyde  a  yeer,  or  tuo,  or  thre, 

Morder  wil  out,  this  is  my  conclusioun. 

And  right  anoon,  the  mynistres  of  that  toun 

Han  hent  the  carter,  and  so  sore  him  pyned, 

And  eek  the  hostiller  so  sore  engyned, 

That  thay  biknew  her  wikkednes  anoon, 

And  were  anhonged  by  the  nekke  boon. 

"  Here  may  men  se  that  dremys  ben  to  drede. 
And  certes  in  the  same  book  I  rede,  16550 

Right  in  the  nexte  chapitre  after  this, 
(I  gabbe  nought,  so  have  I  joye  or  blis), 
Tuo  men  that  wolde  have  passed  over  see 
For  certeyn  causes  into  fer  centre, 
If  that  the  wynd  ne  hadde  ben  contrarie, 
That  made  hem  in  a  cito  for  to  tarie, 
That  stood  ful  mery  upon  an  haven  syde. 
But  on  a  day,  agayn  the  even  tyde; 
The  wynd  gan  chaunge,  and  blew  right  as  hem  list. 
Jolyf  and  glad  they  wenten  unto  rest,  16500 

And  casten  hem  ful  erly  for  to  sayle  ; 
But  to  that  oon  man  fell  a  gret  mervayle. 
That  oon  of  hem  in  his  slepyng  as  he  lay, 

Ifi528.  heer  upright.     The  Lansd.  Ms.   reads  gapinij  upright,  which  i.s  the 
toadiug  adopted  by  Tyrwhitt. 


484  THE  CANTERliURY  TALES. 

Him  met  a  wonder  drem,  agayn  the  day  ; 

Him  thought  a  man  stood  by  his  beddes  syde, 

And  him  comaunded,  that  he  schuld  abyde, 

And  sayd  him  thus,  '  if  thou  to  morwe  wende, 

Thow  schalt  be  dreynt  ;  my  tale  is  at  an  ende.' 

He  wook,  and  told  his  felaw  what  he  mette, 

And  prayde  him  his  viage  to  lette,  16570 

As  for  that  day,  he  prayd  him  for  to  abyde. 

His  felaw  that  lay  by  his  beddis  syde, 

Gan  for  to  1  iwgh,  and  scorned  him  ful  fast. 

'  No  dreen  ,'  quod  he,  '  may  so  myn  herte  gaste, 

That  I  wil  lette  for  to  do  my  thinges. 

I  sette  not  a  straw  by  thy  dremynges, 

For  swevens  been  but  vanitees  and  japes. 

Men  dreme  al  day  of  owles  and  of  apes, 

And  eke  of  many  a  mase  therwithal  ; 

Men  dreme  of  thinges  that  never  be  schal.  16580 

But  sith  I  see  that  thou  wilt  her  abyde, 

And  thus  forslouthe  wilfully  thy  tyde, 

God  wot  it  reweth  me,  and  have  good  day.' 

Arid  thus  he  took  his  leve,  and  went  his  way. 

But  er  he  hadde  half  his  cours  i-sayled, 

Noot  I  nought  why,  ne  what  meschaunce  it  ayled, 

But  casuelly  the  schippes  bothom  rent, 

And  schip  and  man  under  the  watir  went 

In  sight  of  other  schippes  ther  byside, 

That  with  him  sailed  at  the  same  tyde.  16590 

"And  therfore,  faire  Pertelot  so  deere, 
By  such  ensamples  olde  maistow  leere 
That  no  man  scholde  be  to  recheles 
Of  dremes,  for  I  say  the  douteles, 
That  many  a  dreem  ful  sore  is  for  to  drede. 
Lo,  in  the  lif  of  seirit  Kenelm,  I  rede, 
That  was  Kenulphus  sone,  the  noble  king 
Of  Mercenrike,  how  Kenilm  mette  a  thing. 
A  litil  or  he  was  mordred  upon  a  day, 
His  mordre  in  his  avysiouii  he  say.  16600 

His  nonce  him  expouned  every  del 
His  sweven,  and  bad  him  for  to  kepe  him  wel 
For  traisoun  ;  but  he  mis  but  seven  yer  old, 
And  therefore  litel  tale  hath  he  told 
Of  eny  drem,  so  holy  was  his  hert. 

16580.  never  be  schal.  I  have  not  ventured  to  change  the  reading  of  ths 
Harl.  Ms.  Tyrwhitt  reads  never  irns  tie  Khali. 

1  (!">!)«.  Kenelm.  Kenelm  succeeded  his  father,  Kenulph,  on  the  throne  of 
the  Mercians,  in  821,  at  the  age  of  seven  years,  and  was  murdered  by  order  of 
his  aunt,  Quenedreda.  He  was  subsequently  made  a  saint,  and  his  legend 
will  be  found  in  Capgrave,  or  in  the  Cioldcn  Legend. 


THE  NONNK  PR3STES  TALE.  453 

By  God,  I  hadde  lever  than  my  schert, 

That  ye  had  rad  his  legend,  as  have  I. 

Dame  Pertelot,  I  say  yow  trewely, 

Macrobius,  that  writ  the  avisioun 

In  Auffrik  of  the  worthy  Cipioun,  16610 

Alfermeth  dremes,  and  saith  that  thay  been 

Warnyrig  of  thinges  that  men  after  seen. 

And  furthermore,  I  pray  yow  loketh  wel 

In  the  olde  Testament,  of  Daniel, 

If  he  huld  dremes  eny  vanyte. 

Rede  eek  of  Joseph,  and  ther  schal  ye  see 

"VVhethir  dremes  ben  som  tyme  (I  say  nought  alle) 

Warnyng  of  thinges  that  schul  after  faile. 

Lok  of  Egipt  the  king,  daun  Pharao, 

His  baker  and  his  botiler  also,  16620 

Whethir  thay  felte  noon  effect  in  dremis. 

Who  "so  wol  seke  actes  of  sondry  remys, 
May  rede  of  dremes  many  a  wonder  tiling. 

Lo  Cresus,  which  that  was  of  Lydes  king, 

Mette  he  not  that  he  sat  upon  a  tre, 

Which  signified  he  sehuld  hanged  be  ? 

Lo  hir  Andromachia,  Ectors  wif, 

That  day  that  Ector  schulde  lese  his  lif, 

Sche  dremed  on  the  same  night  byforn, 

How  that  the  lif  of  Ector  sehuld  be  lorn,  16630 

If  thilke  day  he  werite  to  batayle  ; 

Sche  warned  him,  but  it  might  nought  availe; 

He  wente  forth  to  fighte  natheles, 

And  he  was  slayn  anoon  of  Achilles. 

But  thilke  tale  is  al  to  long  to  telle, 

And  eek  it  is  neigh  day,  I  may  not  duelle. 

Schortly  I  say,  as  for  conclusioun, 

That  I  schal  hav)  of  this  avisioun 

Adversite  ;  and  I  say  forthermore, 

That  1  ne  telle  of  laxatifs  no  store,  16641) 

For  thay  ben  veiiemous,  I  wot  it  wel ; 

I  hem  defye,  I  love  hem  never  a  del. 

''  Now  let  us  speke  of  mirthe,  and  lete  al  this  j 
Madame  Pertilot,  so  have  I  blis, 
Of  o  thing  God  hath  me  sent  large  grace  ; 
For  whan  1  se  the  beaute  of  your  face, 
Ye  ben  so  scarlet  hiew  about  your  eyghen, 

1fifi10.  Cijiimin.  The  Somnium  Scipionis  of  Macrobius  was  a  favorite  work 
during  the  middle  ages. 

lfif>:J7.  Lo  htr -Indroni'tchiit.  Andromache's  dream  is  related  in  the  twenty- 
fourth  chapter  of  Dares  J'/iri/(/ius  :  the  authority  for  the  history  of  the  Trojan 
war  most  popular  in  the  middle  ages. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


It  makith  al  my  drede  for  to  deyghen, 

For,  al  so  siker  as  In  principio, 

Afulier  est  hominis  cortfusio.  16650 

(Madame,  the  sentence  of  this  Latyn  is, 

Womman  is  mannes  joye  and  marines  blis.) 

For  whan  I  fiele  a-night  your  softe  syde, 

Al  be  it  that  I  may  not  on  you  ryde, 

For  that  your  perche  is  mad  so  narow,  alias  ! 

I  am  so  fal  of  joye  and  solas, 

That  I  defye  bothe  sweveri  and  drem." 

And  with  that  word  he  fleigh  douri  fro  the  beem, 

For  it  was  day,  and  eek  his  hennes  alle  ; 

And  with  a  chuk  he  gaii  hem  for  to  calle,  16660 

For  he  had  found  a  corn,  lay  in  the  yerd. 

Real  he  was,  he  was  nouiore  aferd  ; 

He  fetherid  Pertelote  twenty  tyine, 

And  trad  as  ofte,  er  that  it  was  prime. 

lie  lokith  as  it  were  a  grim  lioun  ; 

And  on  his  toon  he  rometh  up  and  doun, 

Him  deyned  not  to  set  his  foot  to  grounde. 

He  chukkith,  whan  he  hath  a  corn  i-founde, 

And  to  him  rennen  than  his  wifes  alle. 

Thus  real,  as  a  prince  is  in  his  halle,  16670 

Leve  I  this  Chaunteclere  in  his  pasture  ; 
And  after  wol  I  telle  his  aventure. 
Whan  that  the  moneth  in  which  the  world  bigan, 
That  highte  March,  whan  God  maked  first  man, 
Was  complet,  and  y-passed  were  also, 
Syn  March  bygan,  tway  rnonthes  and  dayes  tuo, 
Byfel  that  Chaunteclere  in  al  his  pride, 
His  seven  wyves  walkyng  by  his  syde, 
Cast  up  his  eyghen  to  the  brighte  sonne, 
That  in  the  signe  of  Taurus  had  i-ronne  16680 

Twenty  degrees  and  oon,  and  somwhat  more  ; 
He  knew  by  kyride,  and  by  noon  other  lore, 
That  it  was  prime,  and  crew  with  blisful  steven. 
"The  sonne,"  he  sayde,  "  is  clomben  up  on  heven 
Twenty  degrees  arid  oon,  and  more  i-wis. 
Madame  Pertelot,  my  worldes  blis, 
IJerknith  these  blisful  briddes  how  thay  synge, 

16676.  Syn  March  bi/c/an.  twny  monthes  and  dayes  tun.  This  is  the  reading 
tit  the  Harfeian  Ms.,  aiid  I  see  no  reason  to  change  it.  Tyrwhitt  reads,  Si/hen 
March  endt'd,  thrifty  dayvs  and  two,  and  observes,  •'  I  have  ventured  to  de- 
part from  the  MSS.  and  edit,  in  this  passage-  They  all  read  began  instead  of 
tntied.  At  the  same  time  Ms.  c.  1,  has  this  note  in  the  margin.  '  i.  2°  die 
Mail,'  which  plainly  supposes  that  the  thirty-two  days  are  to  be  reckoned 
from  the  end  of  March.  At  the  vernal  equinox  (according  to  our  author's 
hypothesis,  Discourse,  &c.  p.  103)  happened  on  the  12th  of  March,  the  place 
of  the  sun  (as  described  in  ver.  152UU,  1.)  in  22°  of  Taurus  agrees  very  nearly 


THE  NGNNE  PRESTES  TALE.  4b7 

•  And  seth  these  freissche  floures  how  thay  springe  ; 
Ful  is  myn  hert  of  revel  and  solaas." 
But  sodeinly  him  fel  a  sorwful  caas  ;  16600 

For  ever  the  latter  end  of  joye  is  wo. 
God  wot  that  worldly  joye  is  soone  ago  ; 
And  if  a  rethor  couthe  faire  endite, 
lie  in  a  chronique  saufly  might  he  write, 
As  for  a  soverayn  notabilite. 

Now  every  wys  man  let  him  herkne  me  ; 
This  story  is  al  so  trewe,  I  undertake. 
As  the  book  is  of  Launcelot  the  Lake, 
That  womman  huld  in  ful  gret  reverence. 
Now  wol  I  torne  agayn  to  my  sentence.  16700 

A  cole-fox,  ful  sleigh  of  iniquite, 
That  in  the  grove  had  woned  yeres  thre, 
By  heigh  ymagiriacioun  forncast, 
The  same  riighte  thurgh  the  hegge  brast 
Into  the  yerd,  ther  Chaunteclere  the  faire 
Was  wont,  and  eek  his  wyves,  to  repaire  ; 
And  in  a  bed  of  wortes  stille  he  lay, 
Til  it  was  passed  undern  of  the  day, 
Waytyng  his  tyme  on  Chaunteclere  to  falle ; 
As  gladly  doon  these  homicides  alle,  16710 

That  in  awayte  lyn  to  morther  men. 
O  false  mordrer  lurckyng  in  thy  den  ! 
O  newe  Scariot,  newe  Genilon  ! 
Fals  dissimulour,  o  Greke  Sinon, 
That  broughtest  Trove  al  utrely  to  sorwe ! 
O  Chauntecler,  accursed  be  the  morwe, 
That  thou  into  the  yerd  flough  fro  the  bemys  ! 
Thow  were  ful  wel  warned  be  thy  dvemys, 
That  thilke  day  was  perilous  to  the. 
But  what  that  God  forwot  most  needes  be,  16720 

After  the  opynyoun  of  certeyn  clerkis. 
Witnesse  on  him,  that  eny  parlit  clerk  is, 
That  in  scole  is  gret  altercacioun 
In  this  matier,  and  gret  disputesoun, 

iriih  his  true  place  on  the  second  of  May,  the  fifty-third  day  incl.  from  th 
equinox.    Ms.  C.  reads  thus,— 

"  Syn  March  began  tway  monthes  and  dayes  two  ; 

which  brings  us  to  the  same  day,  but,  I  think,  by  a  less  probable  correction 
of  the  faulty  copies." 

16685.  Twenty  <h-grtf$.  "The  reading  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  MSS.  is 
fmtrtii  dcfiives.  '  But  this  is  evidently  wrong  ;  for  Chaucer  is  speaking  of  the 
altitude  of  the  nun  at  or  about  prime,  i.  e.  six  o'clock  A.M.  See  ver.  IS'-Miu. 
When  the  sun  is  in  22°  of  Taurus,  he  is  L'l°  high  about  three-quarters  after  six 
A-M." — Tyrirhitf. 

16712.  lurckyng.  The  I.ansd.  Ms.  reads  mulcting,  and  Tyrwhitt  has  ritcK- 
tng. 


48*  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  hath  ben  of  an  hundred  thousond  men. 

But  yit  I  can  not  bult  it  to  the  bren, 

As  can  the  holy  doctor  Augustyn, 

Or  Boece,  or  the  bischop  Bradwardyn, 

Whether  that  Goddis  worthy  forwetyng 

Streigneth  me  needely  for  to  do  a  thing,  1673C 

(Needely  clepe  I  simple  necessite)  ; 

Or  elles  if  fre  choys  be  graunted  me 

To  do  that  same  thing,  or  to  do  it  nought, 

Though  (jod  forwot  it,  er  that  it  was  wrought ; 

Or  of  his  wityng  streyneth  never  a  deel, 

But  by  necessite  condicionel. 

I  wol  not  have  to  do  of  such  matiere  ; 

My  tale  is  of  a  cok,  as  ye  schal  hiere, 

That  took  his  counseil  of  his  wyf  with  sorwe 

To  walken  in  the  yerd  upon  the  morwe,  16740 

That  he  had  met  the  dreme,  that  I  tolde. 

Wymmens  counseiles  ben  ful  ofte  colde  ; 

Wommannes  counseil  brought  us  first  to  woo, 

And  made  Adam  fro  paradys  to  go, 

Ther  as  he  was  ful  mery,  and  wel  at  ease. 

But  for  I  not,  to  him  it  might  displease, 

If  I  counseil  of  womman  wolde  blame, 

Pas  over,  for  I  sayd  it  in  my  game. 

Red  auctours,  wher  thay  trete  of  such  matiere, 

And  what  thay  sayn  of  wommen  ye  may  heere.     16750 

These  been  the  cokkes  wordes,  and  not  inyiie  j 

I  can  noon  hanne  of  womman  divine. 

Faire  in  the  sond,  to  bathe  hir  merily, 
Lith  Pertelot,  and  alle  hir  sustres  by, 
Agayn  the  sonne ;  and  Chaunteclere  so  free 
Sang  merier  than  the  meremayd  in  the  see  ; 
For  Phisiologus  seith  sicurly, 
How  that  thay  syngen  wel  and  merily. 
And  so  byfel  that  as  he  cast  his  ye 

Among  the  wortes  on  a  boterflye,  16760 

He  was  war  of  this  fox  that  lay  ful  lowe. 
No  thing  ne  list  him  thanne  for  to  crowe, 
But  cryde  anon,  "  cok,  cok,"  and  up  he  stert, 
As  man  that  was  alTrayed  in  his  hert. 

167".   rJiisioloriHs.     This  was  the  title  given  to  a  popular  metrical  I.al 5 
treatise  on  the  natures  of  miiinnls.  in  the  middle  ages,  which  is  frequent, 
quoted  by  the  early  writers  when  alluding  to  subjects  of  natural  his*vry.   Tl  i 
chapter  tie  Sirenis  begins  thus,— 

**  QiTtmoca   cntit  nir»nctrn   niQriH  rpcmiflntifl  mjlfrnlS 


THE  NONME  FRESTES  TALE.  489 

For  naturelly  a  beest  desireth  flee 
Fro  his  contrarie,  if  he  may  it  see, 
Though  he  never  er  had  sayn  it  with  his  ye. 
This  Chaunteclere,  whan  he  gan  it  aspye, 
He  wold  han  lied,  but  that  the  fox  anon 
Said,  "  gentil  sire,  alias  !  why  wol  ye  goon  ?  16770 

Be  ye  affrayd  of  me  that  am  youre  frend  ? 
Certes,  I  were  worse  than  eny  feend, 
If  I  to  yow  wold  harm  or  vilonye.  ^ 

1  am  nought  come  your  counsail  to  espy 
But  trewely  the  cause  of  my  coming 
Was  only  for  to  herken  how  ye  sing. 
For  trewely  ye  have  als  mery  a  steven, 
As  eny  aungel  hath,  that  is  in  heven  ; 
Therwith  he  han  of  musik  more  felynge, 
Than  had  Boece,  or  eny  that  can  synge.  16780 

My  lord  your  fader  (God  his  soule  blesse) 
And  youre  moder  of  her  gentilesse 
Han  in  inyn  hous  been,  to  my  gret  ease^ 
And  certes,  sire,  ful  fayri  wold  1  yow  please. 
But  for  men  speke  of  syngyng,  I  wol  say, 
So  mot  I  brouke  wel  myn  yen  tway, 
Save  ye,  I  herde  never  nian  so  synge, 
As  dede  your  fadir  in  the  morwenynge. 
Certes  it  was  of  hert  al  that  he  song. 
And  for  to  make  his  vois  the  more  strong,  16790 

He  wold  so  peynen  him,  that  with  bothe  his  yen 
He  moste  wynke,  so  lowde  he  wolde  crien, 
And  stonden  on  his  typtoon  therwithal, 
And  streche  forth  his  necke  long  and  smal. 
And  eek  he  was  of  such  discressioun, 
That  ther  nas  no  man  in  no  regioun 
That  him  in  song  or  wisdom  mighte  passe. 
I  have  wel  rad  in  daun  Burnel  thasse 
Among  his  verses,  how  ther  was  a  cok, 
That,  for  a  prestes  sone  gaf  him  a  knok  1680G 

Upon  his  leg,  whil  he  was  yong  and  nyce, 
He  made  him  for  to  lese  his  benefice. 
But  certeyn  ther  is  no  comparisouix 
Betwix  the  wisdom  and  discressioun 
Of  youre  fader,  and  of  his  subtilte. 

10770.  wJi;/  wol  i/e  floon  *  Tyrwhitt  follows  the  reading  of  gome  of  the  other 
ttss.,  and  prints  if,  ir/inl  wo/  i/e  don  .' 

1U775.  Two  lines  omitted  here  l>y  accident  in  the  Harl.  Ms.  are  supplied 
Irom  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

IC7!»S.  in  (htnn  Jlnnicl.  The  reference,  of  course,  is  to  the  celebrated 
•ntireal  poem  of  Nigellus  Wirekrr,  entitled  JJurtiellus.  It  is  one  of  the  mt*| 
popular  Latin  poems  of  the  middle  ages. 


490  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Now  syngeth,  sire,  for  seinte  Charite  ; 

Let  se,  can  ye  your  fader  countrefete  ?" 

This  Chaunteclere  his  wynges  gan  to  bete, 

As  man  that  couthe  his  tresoun  nought  espye, 

So.  was  he  ravyssht  with  his  flaterie.  16810 

Alias  !  ye  lordlynges,  many  a  fals  flatour 
Is  in  your  hous,  and  many  a  losengour, 
That  pleasen  yow  wel  more,  by  my  faith, 
Than  he  that  sothfastnesse  unto  yow  saith. 
Reaith  Ecclesiast  of  flaterie  ; 
Beth  war,  ye  lordes,  of  her  treccherie. 

This  Chaunteclere  stood  heighe  upon  his  toos, 
Strecching  his  necke,  and  held  his  yhen  cloos, 
And  gan  to  crowe  lowde  for  the  noones  ; 
And  daun  Russel  the  fox  stert  up  at  oones,  16820 

And  by  the  garget  hente  Chaunteclere, 
And  on  his  bak  toward  the  woode  him  bere. 
For  yit  was  there  no  man  that  him  sewed. 
O  desteny,  .that  maist  not  ben  eschiewed  ! 
Alias,  that  Chaunteclere  neigh  fro  the  bemis  ! 
Alias,  his  wif  ne  roughte  nought  of  dremis  I 
And  on  a  Friday  fel  al  this  mischaunce. 
O  Venus,  that  art  goddes  of  pleasaunce, 
Syn  that  thy  servant  was  this  Chaunteclere, 
And  in  thy  service  did  al  his  powere,  16830 

More  for  delit,  than  the  world  to  multiplie, 
Why  woldest  thou  suffre  him  on  thy  day  to  dye  ? 
O  Gaufred,  dere  mayster  soverayn. 
That,  whan  the  worthy  king  Richard  was  slayn 
With  schot,  compleynedist  his  deth  so  sore, 

16*12.  hons.  The  Landsdowne  Ms.  reads  courte,  which  is  adopted  by  Tyr- 
whitt. 

16820.  daun  Russel.  Russel  was  a  common  name  given  to  the  fox,  from 
bis  colour. 

1683:?.  0  Gaufttd.  GeofTray  Vinsauf,  the  author  of  a  celebrated  medieval 
treatise  on  writing  poetry,  entitled  Xoca  J'oetria.  Tyrwhitt  has  quoted  the 
bombastic  lines  on  the  death  of  Richard  I.,  which  are  given  as  a  specimen  of 
the  plaintive  style,  and  are  here  ridiculed  by  Chaucer.  They  are,— 

"Neustria,  sub  clypeo  rejii*  defensa  liicardi 
Indefensa  modo,  gestu  testare  doloreni. 
Ex  undent  oculi  lacrymas  ;  exterminet  ora 
Pallor  :  connodet  digitos  tortura  ;  cruentet 
Interiora  dolor,  et  verberet  rethera  clamor. 
Tola  peris  ex  morte  sua.     Mora  non  fuit  ejiiB, 
Sed  tua  :  non  una,  sed  publica  mortis  origo. 
O  1'entris  lacrymosa  <!i<-x  .'  o  sydus  amarum  ! 
Ilia  dies  tua  nox  fuit.  et  Venus  ilia  veneuuiu. 
llladedit  vulnus,"  &c. 

These  li  )•  e  are  sufficient  to  shew  the  object,  and  the  propriety,  of  Chaucer*! 
ridicule.  'I'lie  whole  poem  is  printed  in  heyser'a  Hist.  I'd.'  Med.  ^Eci,  p. 
86li  -978. 


THE  NONNE  PEESTES  TALE.  491 


Why  ne  had  I  nought  thy  sentence  and  thy  lore, 

The  Friday  for  to  chiden,  as  dede  ye  ? 

(For  on  a  Fryday  sothly  slayn  was  he.) 

Than  wolde  I  sche  we  how  that  I  couthe  pleyne, 

For  Chauritecleres  drede,  and  for  his  peyne.  16S40 

Certis  such  cry  ne  lainentacioun 
Was  never  of  ladies  maad,  whan  Ilioun 
Was  wonne,  arid  Pirrus  with  his  strit  swerd, 
Whan  he  had  hente  kyng  Priam  by  the  herd, 
And  slaugh  him  (as  saith  us  Eneydos), 
As  inaden  alle  the  henries  in  the  clos, 
Whan  thay  had  sayn  of  Chauntecler  the  sight. 
But  soveraignly  dam  Pertelote  schright, 
Fill  lowder  than  did  Hasdrubaldes  wyf, 
Whan  that  hir  housebond  had  lost  his  lyf,  16850 

And  that  the  Roinayns  had  i-brent  Cartage, 
Sche  was  so  ful  of  torment  and  of  rage, 
That  wilfully  unto  the  fuyr  sche  stert, 
And  brerid  hirselven  with  a  stedfast  hert. 
O  woful  hennes,  right  so  cride  ye, 
As,  whan  that  Nero  brente  the  cite 
Of  Rome,  criden  the  sonatoures  wyves, 
For  that  her  housbondes  losten  alle  here  ly  ves  ; 
Withouten  gult  this  Nero  hath  hem  slayn. 

Now  wol  I  torne  to  my  matier  agayn.  16860 

The  sely  wydow,  and  hir  doughtres  tuo, 
Ilerden  these  henriys  crie  and  maken  wo, 
And  out  at  dores  starte  thay  anoon, 
And  sayden  the  fox  toward  the  woode  is  goon, 
And  bar  upon  his  bak  the  cok  away  ; 
They  criden,  "  out  !  harrow  and  wayleway  ! 
Ha,  ha,  the  fox  !  "  and  after  him  thay  ran, 
And  eek  with  staves  many  another  man  ; 
Ran  Oolle  our  dogge,  and  Talbot,  and  Garlond, 
And  Malkyn,  with  a  distaf  in  hir  hond  ;  1G870 

Ran  cow  and  calf,  and  eek  the  verray  hogges 
So  were  they  fered  for  l>erkyng  of  dogges, 
And  schowtyng  of  the  men  and  wymmen  eke, 
Thay  ronne  that  thay  thought  her  herte  breke. 
Thay  yelleden  as  feendes  doon  in  helle  ; 
The  dokes  criden  as  men  wold  hem  quelle  ; 
The  gees  for  fere  flowen  over  the  trees  ; 
Out  of  the  hyve  came  the  swarm  of  bees 
So  hidous  was  the  noyse,  a 


seiitenc?.     Tins  is  the  reading  of  (lie  Ilarl.  and  l.anb-1.  Mss.  ;  Tyv 
Whitt  prints  science,  whioh  weakens  the  sense. 
I6t>84.  homes-     Tyrwhitt  i-«iads  beemes, 


492  THE  CANTEEBUBY  TALES. 

Certes  he  Jakke  Straw,  and  his  meyne,  16880 

Ne  maderi  schoutes  never  half  so  schrille, 

Whan  that  thay  wolden  eny  Flemyng  kille, 

As  thilke  day  was  maad  upon  the  fox. 

Of  bras  thay  broughten  homes  and  of  box, 

Of  horn  and  boon,  in  which  thay  blew  and  powped, 

And  therwithal  thay  schryked  and  thay  howped  ; 

It  seemed  as  that  heven  schulde  falle. 

Now,  goode  men,  I  pray  herkneth  alle  ; 
Lo,  how  fortune  torneth  sodeinly 

The  hope  and  pride  eek  of  her  enemy.  16890 

This  cok  that  lay  upon  this  foxes  bak, 
In  al  his  drede,  unto  the  fox  he  spak, 
And  saide,  "  sire,  if  that  I  were  as  ye, 
Yet  schuld  I  sayn  (as  wis  God  helpe  me), 
Turneth  agein,  ye  proude  cherles  alle  ; 
A  verray  pestilens  upon  yow  falle. 
Now  am  I  come  unto  this  woodes  syde, 
Maugre  youre  hede,  the  cok  schal  heer  abyde  ; 
I  wol  him  ete  in  faith,  and  that  anoon." 
The  fox  answerd,  li  in  faith,  it  schal  be  doon."       1690G 
And  whil  he  spak  that  word,  al  sodeinly 
This  cok  brak  from  his  mouth  delyverly, 
And  heigh  upon  a  tree  he  fleigh  anoon. 
And  whan  the  fox  seigh  that  he  was  i-goon, 
"  Alias  !  "  quod  he,  "  o  Chaunteclere,  alias  ! 
I  have  to  yow,"  quod  he,  "  y-don  trespas, 
Inasmoche  as  I  makid  yow  aferd, 
Whan  I  yow  herit,  and  brought  out  of  the  yerd  ; 
But,  sire,  I  dede  it  in  no  wicked  entent ; 
Com  doun,  and  I  schal  telle  yow  what  I  ment,       16910 
I  schal  say  soth  to  yow,  God  help  me  so." 
"  Nay  than,"  quod  he,  "  I  schrew  us  bothe  tuo, 
And  first  I  schrew  myself,  both  blood  and  boones, 
If  thou  bigile  me  any  ofter  than  oones. 
Thou  schalt  no  more  thurgh  thy  flaterye 
Do  me  to  synge  and  wynke  with  myn  ye. 
For  he  that  wynkith,  whan  he  scholde  see, 
Al  wilfully,  God  let  him  never  the." 
"  Nay,"  quod  the  fox,  "  but  God  give  him  meschaunce, 
That  is  so  undiscret  of  governaunce,  16920 

That  jany;leth,  whan  he  scholde  holde  his  pees." 

Lo,  such  it  is  for  to  be  recheles, 
And  necgligent,  and  trust  on  flaterie. 
But  ye  that  holde  this  ta.le  of  t'olye, 

;6R90.  enemy.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  eiiri/  ;  but  as  this  does  not,  seem  t» 
v<*kc  i;ood  sense,  I  Lave  taken  the  reading  printed  by  Tynvhitt. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  MA  UNCIPLES  TALE.     49f. 

As  of  a  fox,  or  of  a  cok  or  hen, 
Takith  the  nioralite  therof,  goode  men. 
For  seint  Poul  saith,  that  all  that  writeu  is, 
To  oure  doctrine  it  is  i- write  i-wis. 
Takith  the  fruyt,  and  let  the  chaf  be  stille. 

Now,  goode  God,  if  that  it  be  thy  wille,  16930 

As  saith  my  lord,  so  make  us  alle  good  men  ; 
And  bring  us  alle  to  his  blisse.     Amen. 

THE  PROLOGE  OP  THE  MAUNCIPLES  TALK. 

WOT  ye  not  wher  ther  storit  a  litel  toun, 
Which  that  cleped  is  Bob-up-and-doun, 
Under  the  Ble,  in  Cauriterbury  way  ? 

16K>1.  jtssaitli  mtj  lor<f.  "  Opposite  to  this  verse,  in  the  margin  of  Ms.  c 
1,  is  written  Kauniuar,  which  ineaus,  1  suppose,  that  some  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  is  quoted."—  7'i/rwliitt. 

169,'iL'.  In  the  MS.  in  which  the  Nun's  Priest's  tale  is  followed  by  that  of 
the  Nun,  sixteen  lines  are  inserted  here,  which  are  given  as  follows  by 
Tyrwhitt,— 

Sire  Nonnes  Preest.  our  hoste  sayde  anon, 

Yblessed  be  thy  breche  and  every  ston, 

This  was  a  mery  talo  of  Chatmteclere. 

But  by  my  trouthe,  if  thou  were  seculere, 

Thou  woldest  l)en  a  tredefoule  aright : 

For  if  them  had  corage  as  thou  hast  might, 

Thoc  were  nede  of  liennes,  as  I  wene, 

Ye  mo  than  seven  times  seventene- 

Se,  whiche  braunes  hath  this  gentil  preest, 

So  gvet  a  necke,  and  swiche  a  large  bree»t  t 

Ho  loketh  as  asparhauk  with  his  eyen  ; 

Him  nedetli  not/  his  colour  for  to  dien 

With  Brasil,  ne  with  grain  of  Portingal. 
But,  sire,  faire  falle  you  for  your  tale. 

And  after  that,  he  with  ful  mery  chere 

Sayd  to  another,  as  ye  shulen  here. 

<v*hatever  be  the  authority  of  these  linos,  they  are  evidently  imperfect  »t  tb« 
nid,  and  Tynvhitt  printed  them  as  being  so  ;  but  two  MSS.  which  he  ex- 
imined  gave  the  last  of  them  thus,— 

"  Seide  unto  the  nunne  as  ye  shul  heer." 

lud  added  the  following  lines  to  fill  up  the  apparent  vacuum, — 
"  Madame,  and  I  dorste,  I  wolde  you  pray 

To  telle  a  tale  in  forthoringe  of  our  way. 

Than  mighte  ye  do  unto  us  grete  ese. 

Gladly,  sire,  quotli  she,  so  that  I  might  plese 

Yon  and  this  worthy  company, 

And  began  hire  tale  riht  thus  ful  sobrely." 

16034.  flob-iip-anrf-douit.  This  appears  to  have  been  the  popular  name  for 
the  village  of  Harbledown,  a  short  distance  from  Canterbury,  which  by  its 
situation  on  a  hill,  and  the  ups  and  downs  on  the  road,  merits  well  such  an 
appellation.  It  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  Ble,  or  Blean  Forest,  which  was 
formerly  celebrated  for  its  wildnoss.  Erasmus,  in  one  of  his  colloquies,  the 
/'llgrimnge  for  rftifiinn's  fake,  describes  this  place  exactly,  when  he  tells  us 
that,  "  those  who  journey  to  London,  not  long  after  leaving  Canterbury,  lind 
themselves  i  a  road  at  once  very  hollow  and  narrow,  and  besides  the  banks 
on  either  side  are  so  steep  and  abrupt  that  you  cannot  escape."  See  Mr.  J. 
CJ.  Nichols's  translation  of  the  Pilgrimage  of  JtCrasmus,  p.  60. 


494  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

There  gan  our  hoste  for  to  jape  and  play, 

And  sayde,  "  sires,  what  ?  Dun  is  in  the  myre. 

Is  ther  no  man  for  prayer  ne  for  hyre, 

That  wol  awake  our  felawe  al  byhynde  ? 

A  theef  mighte  ful  lightly  robbe  and  bynde.  16946 

Se  how  he  nappith,  se  for  Goddes  boones, 

That  he  wol  falle  fro  his  hors  at  ones. 

Is  that  a  cook  of  Londoune,  with  meschaunce  ? 

Do  him  come  forth,  he  knoweth  his  penaunce ; 

For  he  schal  telle  a  tale,  by  my  fay, 

Although  it  be  nought  worth  a  botel  hay. 

Awake,  thou  cook,  sit  up,  God  gif  the  sorwe ! 

What  eyleth  the,  to  slepe  by  the  morwe  ? 

Hast  thou  had  fleen  al  night  or  artow  dronke  ? 

Or  hastow  with  som  quen  al  night  i-swonke,          16950 

So  that  thou  maist  not  holden  up  thyn  heed  ?" 

This  cook,  that  was  ful  pale  and  nothing  reed, 

Sayd  to  our  host,  "  So  God  my  soule  blesse, 

As  ther  is  falle  on  me  such  hevynesse, 

Not  I  nought  why,  that  me  were  lever  slepe, 

Than  the  beste  galoun  wyn  that  is  in  Chepe." 

"  Well,"  quod  the  Maunciple,   "  if  that  I  may  doon 

ease 

To  the,  sir  Cook,  and  to  no  wight  displease 
Which  that  her  rydeth  in  this  compaignye, 
And  our  host  wolde  of  his  curteisie,  16960 

I  wol  as  now  excuse  the  of  thy  tale  ; 
For  in  good  faith  thi  visage  is  ful  pale. 
Thyn  eyeii  daswen  eek,  al  so  me  thinkith, 
And  wel  I  woot,  thy  breth  ful  foule  stynkith, 
That  scheweth  eek  thou  art  nought  wel  disposid  ; 

16944.  Do  him  come  forth.  Tyrwhitt  observes  on  this, — "  The  common 
reading  is— do  him  comfort.  The  alteration  is  material,  not  only  as  it  gives  a 
clearer  sense,  but  as  it  intimates  to  us  that  the  narrator  of  a  tale  was  made 
to  come  out  of  the  crowd,  and  to  take  his  place  within  hearing  of  the  host, 
during  his  narration.  Agreeably  to  this  notion  when  the  host  calls  upoii 
Chaucer,  ver.  13628,  he  says, 

Approche  nere,  and  loke  up  merily. 

Xow  ware  you,  sires,  and  let  this  man  have  place. 

Jt  was  necessary  that  the  host,  who  was  to  be  '•  juge  and  reportour"  of  the 
tales  iver.  Hlij;,  should  hear  them  all  distinctly.  The  others  might  hear  as 
much  as  they  could,  or  as  they  chose,  of  them.  It  would  have  required  the 
lungs  of  a  Stentor  to  speak  audibly  to  a  company  of  thirty  people,  trotting  on 
together  in  a  road  of  the  fourteenth  century."  '  We  must,  however,  not  take 
things  too  literally  in  the  Cnnferlnin/  Tales,  for  it  is  evident  that  the  Manoi- 


pies  tale,  and  the  lon^  discourse  of  the  pnrson,  would  require  more  than  could 
be  allowed  by  the  distance  between  Harbledmvn  and  Canterbury,  and  we 
might  suppose  they  proceed  very  slowly,  and  such  as  listened  to  the"  tale  kept 
rouud  the  speaker,  and  probably  halted  from  time  to  time. 

16!i4s.   To  nl/'/ie  bij  th?  mnrtri'.     '•  This  must  be  understood  general!1,  for  tli» 
day-time:  as  it  was  then  afternoon."—  Tyrwhitt. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  MAUNCIPLES  TALE     495 

Of  me  certeyn  thou  schalt  nought  ben  i-glosed. 

Se  how  he  ganith,  lo,  this  dronken  wight, 

As  though  he  wolde  swolwe  us  anoon  right. 

Hold  clos  thy  mouth,  rnan,  by  thy  fader  kynne ! 

The  devel  of  helle  sette  his  foot  tlierinne  !  16970 

Thy  cursed  breth  ellecte  wil  us  alle. 

Py,  stynkyng  swyrie  !  foule  mot  the  falle  ! 

A  !   takiih  heed,  sires,  of  this  lusty  man. 

Now,  swete  sir,  wol  ye  joust  atte  fan  ? 

Therto,  me  thinkth,  ye  beth  right  wel  i-schape. 

I  trowe  that  ye  dronken  han  wyn  of  ape, 

And  that  is  whan  men  playen  with  a  straw." 

And  with  his  speche  the  Cook  wax  angry  and  wraw, 
And  on  the  Maunciple  bygari  he  nodde  fast 
For  lak  of  speche  ;  and  cloun  the  hors  him  cast,    16980 
Wher.  as  he  lay,  til  that  men  him  up  took. 
This  was  a  fair  chivache  of  a  cook  ! 
Alias  !  that  he  had  hold  him  by  his  ladil 
And  er  that  he  agayn  were  in  his  sadil, 
Ther  was  gret  schowvyng  bothe  to  arid  fro 
To  lift  him  up,  arid  moche  care  and  wo, 
So  imwelde  was  this  sory  pallid  gost. 
And  to  the  Municiple  tharine  spak  oure  host : 
"  Bycause  drink  hath  dominacioun 
Upon  this  man,  by  my  savacioun.  16990 

I  trow  he  lewedly  tel  wol  his  tale. 
For  were  it  wyn,  or  old  moysty  ale, 
That  he  hath  dronk,  he  spekith  in  his  nose, 
And  snesith  fast,  and  eek  he  hath  the  pose. 

16967.  ganith,  1.  e.  yawns.  This  is  certainly  a  better  reading  than  Tyr- 
whitt's  galpeth.  The  Laiisd,  Ms.  reads*  goth. 

16971.  ejfecte.    Tyrwhitt  has  enfi-cten,  which  is  perhaps  the  better  reading. 

16974.  wol  ye  joust  a/If  fun  ?  '  Some  Jiss.  read  van.  The  sense  of  both 
words  is  the  same.  "  The  thine  meant  is  the  quintaine,  which  is  called  a  fan 
or  vane,  from  its  turning  round  like  a  weathercock." — Tynrliitt. 

16976.  wyn  of  ape.  "  This  is  the  reading  of  the  best  manuscripts,  and  I 
believe  the  true  one.  The  explanation  in  the  Ciloss.  of  this  and  the  preced- 
ing passage,  from  Mr.  Speght,  is  too  ridiculous  to  be  repeated,  tt'inr  nf  ape 
I  understand  to  mean  the  same  as  rin  (/<-  siiiyc  in  the  old  C'nlendrier  r/e.s-  /l<-r- 
!/itrs,  sign  1.  ii.  b.  The  author  i.s  treating  of  physiognomy,  and  in  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  four  temperaments,  he  mentions,  among  other  circumstances,  the 
different  effects  of  wine  upon  him.  The  choleric,  he  says,  a  rin  dc  hjon :  c<  si 
adin;  quant  a  bleu  bcu  n-ult  tanser,  noi/ser,  et  baiire— the  sanguine,  a  rin  <te 
sitific  :  (/iiant  a  plus  bcu  tant  est  plus  joyewx—iii  tne  same  manner  the  phleg- 
matic is  said  to  nave  vin  do  mouton,  and  the  melancholic  vin  d?  porcenn.  I 
find  the  same  four  animals  applied  to  illustrate  the  effects  of  wine  in  a  litlle 
Rabbinical  tradition,  which  1  shall  transcribe  here  from  Fabric.  Cod.  I'seude- 
pig.  V.  T.  vol.  i.  p.  275.  Vineas plantanti  A'oar.-lio  Satanam  sejunyixae  mcmor- 
ant,  qui,  dum  \oa  vites  plantar  et,  mactai-erit  apvtl  illaa  ovem,  leonem.  simiam, 
et  seum  :  quod  principio potus  riiti  homo  sit  instar  ov\a,vinumsumptum  ejlicint 
ex  homine  leonem,  laryiux  hrnittiim,  nmt,t  eum  in  saltantem  simiam.  arl  ibrie- 
tntcm  inj'uginn  iransformet  ilium  in  polhilmn  it  pi-nxtratnm  suem.  See  also 
Gesta  Romanorum,  c.  1511,  where  a  story  of  the  same  purport  is  quoted  /rou) 
Josephus,  in  libro  dc  casu  rerun  naturalium." — T/jrwhttt,  * 


490  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


He  also  hath  to  do  more  than  y-nough 

To  kepe  him  and  his  capil  out  of  the  slough  j 

And  if  he  falle  fro  his  capil  eftsone, 

Than  schal  we  alle  have  y-nough  to  doone 

In  liftyng  up  his  hevy  dronken  cors. 

Tel  on  thy  tale,  of  him  make  I  no  fors.  17000 

But  yit,  Maunciple,  in  faith  thou  art  to  nyce, 

Thus  openly  reproeve  him  of  his  vice  ; 

Another  day  he  wil  par  adventure 

Reclayme  the,  and  bringe  the  to  lure  ; 

I  merie,  he  speke  wol  of  smale  thinges, 

As  for  to  pyrichyn  at  thy  rekenynges, 

That  were  not  honest,  if  it  cam  to  pref." 

Quod  the  Maunciple,  "  That  were  a  gret  meschief  ; 

So  might  he  lightly  bringe  me  in  the  snare. 

Yit  had  I  lever  payen  for  the  mare  17010 

Which  he  ryt  on,  than  he  schuld  with  me  stryve. 

I  wil  not  wrath  him,  al  so  mot  I  thrive  ; 

That  that  I  spak,  I  sayd  it  in  my  bourde. 

And  wite  ye  what?  I  have  heer  in  a  gourde 

A  draught  of  wyn,  is  of  a  ripe  grape. 

And  right  anoon  ye  schal  se  a  good  jape. 

This  cook  schal  drinke  therof,  if  I  may  ; 

Up  peyn  of  deth  he  wol  nought  say  me  nay," 

And  certeinly,  to  telleri  as  it  was, 

Of  this  vessel  the  cook  dronk  fast  (alias  !  17020 

What  needid  it  ?   he  drank  y-nough  biforn); 

And  whan  he  hadde  pouped  in  his  horn, 

To  the  Maunciple  he  took  the  gourd  agayn. 

And  of  that  draught  the  cook  was  wonder  fayn, 

And  thanked  him  in  such  wise  as  he  couthe. 

Than  gan  our  host  to  laughe  wonder  louthe, 

Arid  sayd,  "  I  se  wel  it  is  necessavie 

Wher  that  we  go  good  drynk  with  us  to  carie ; 

For  that  wol  torne  rancour  and  desese 

To  accord  and  love,  and  many  a  wrong  apese.      17030 

O  thou  Bacus,  i-blessid  be  thin  name, 

That  so  canst  torne  ernest  into  game  ; 

Worschip  and  thonke  be  to  thy  deite  1 

Of  that  matier  ye  get  no  more  of  me. 

Tel  on  thi  tale,  Mauncipel,  I  the  pray." 

"  NVel,  sir,"  quod  he,  "  now  hearkyri  what  I  say." 

<7030.  a  wrong  apese.  I  take  Tyrwhitt.'s  reading  of  this  passage,  because 
no  better  reading  presents  itself.  The  MSS.  seem  in  general  more  or  less 
corrupt.  The  Hurl.  Ms.  reads  many  racour pese ;  whi'.e  in  the  ].ansd.  M*.  it 
iUJnls  mony  worde  to  pese. 


THE  MAUNCIPLES  TALE.  497 


THE   MAUNCIPLKS   TALK. 

WHAX  Phebus  cluelt  her  in  this  erthe  adoun, 

As  olde  bookes  maken  mencioun, 

He  was  the  moste  lusty  bachiler 

Of  al  this  world,  arid  eek  the  best  archer.  17040 

He  slough  Phiton  the  serpent,  as  he  lay 

Slepyng  agayn  the  sonne  upon  a  day  ; 

And  many  another  noble  worthy  dede 

He  with  his  bowe  wrought,  as  men  may  rede, 

Pleyen  he  couthe  on  every  mynstralcye, 

And  syngen,  that  it  was  a  melodye 

To  heren  of  his  cleere  vois  the  soun, 

Certes  the  kyng  of  Thebes,  Amphioun, 

That  with  his  singyng  wallid  that  citee, 

Couth  never  synge  half  so  wel  as  he.  17050 

Therto  he  was  the  semlieste  man, 

That  is  or  was,  siththen  the  world  bigan  ; 

What  nedith  it  his  fetures  to  descrive  ? 

For  in  this  worlde,  is  noon  so  faire  on  lyve. 

He  was  therwith  fulnld  of  gentilesce, 

Of  honour,  and  of  parfyte  worthinesse. 

This  Phebus,  that  was  flour  of  bachilerie, 
As  wel  in  fredoui,  as  in  chivalrie, 
For  to  disport,  in  signe  of  victorie 

Of  Phiton,  so  as  telleth  us  the  storie,  \7060 

Was  wont  to  bere  in  his  hond  a  bowe. 
Now  had  this  Phebus  in  his  hous  a  crowe, 
Whicli  in  a  cage  he  fostred  many  a  day, 
And  taught  it  speken,  as  men  doon  a  jay. 
Whit  was  this  crowe,  as  is  a  snow-whyt  swan, 
And  countrefete  the  speche  of  every  man 
He  couthe,  whan  he  schulde  telle  a  tale. 
Ther  is  withinne  this  world  no  nightingale 
Ne  couthe  by  an  hundred  thousand  del 
Singe  so  wonder  merily  and  wel.  1707C 

The  Maunciplea  Talc.  This  tale  is.  of  course,  a  medieval  version  of  an  old 
classic  story,  the  original  of  which  will  be  found  in  the  Metatnorphnses  (\f 
Ovid.  It  is  found  in  medieval  writers  under  a  variety  of  forms.  One  of  thetu 
occurs  in  the  old  collection  of  tales  entitled  the  Xeeen  Sages  ;  another  version 
in  given  in  Gower. 

1705.'!.  fttures.  The  Karl-  Ms.  reads/or^/ ne  :  but  the  reading  I  have  hero 
adopted  from  the  Lansil.  Ms.  is  evidently  the  more  correct  one. 

17054.  so  faire.  The  Harl.  Ms.  has  here,  again,  what  appears  to  be  an 
incorrect  reading,  noon  such  on  luce,  and  I  have  again  followed  the  I.ansa 
Ms. 


498  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Now  had  this  Phebus  in  his  hous  a  wyf, 
Which  that  he  loved  more  than  his  lif, 
And  night  and  day  did  evermore  diligence 
Hir  for  to  please,  and  doon  hir  reverence  ; 
Sauf  oonly,  if  the  soth  that  schal  sayn, 
Jalous  he  was,  and  wold  have  kept  hir  fayn, 
For  him  were  loth  bijaped  for  to  be  ; 
And  so  is  every  wight  in  such  degre  ; 
But  al  for  nought,  for  it  availeth  nought. 
A  good  wyf,  that  is  clene  of  werk  and  thought,      17080 
Schuld  not  be  kept  in  noon  awayt  certayn ; 
And  trewely  the  labour  is  in  vayn 
To  kepe  a  schrewe,  for  it  wil  nought  be. 
This  hold  I  for  a  verray  nycete, 
To  spille  labour  for  to  kepe  wyves  ; 
Thus  olde  clerkes  writen  in  her  lyves. 
But  now  to  purpos,  as  I  first  bigan. 
This  worthi  Phebus  doth  a!  that  he  can 
To  pleasen  hir,  wonyng  by  such  pleasaunce, 
Arid  for  his  manhod  and  his  governaunce,  17090 

That  no  man  schuld  hari  put  him  fro  hir  grace. 
But  God  it  woot,  ther  may  no  man  embrace 
As  to  distroy  a  thing,  the  which  nature 
Hath  naturelly  set  in  a  creature. 
Tak  any  brid,  arid  put  him  in  a  cage, 
And  do  al  thin  eritent,  and  thy  corrage, 
To  foster  it  tenderly  with  mete  and  drynk, 
Arid  with  alle  the  deyntees  thou  canst  think, 
And  keep  it  al  so  kyndly  as  thou  may  ; 
Although  his  cage  of  gold  be  never  so  gay,  17100 

Yit  hath  this  brid,  by  twenty  thousand  fold, 
Lever  to  be  in  forest,  wyld  arid  cold, 
Gron  ete  wormes,  arid  such  wrecchidnes. 
For  ever  this  brid  wil  doon  his  busynes 
To  scape  out  of  his  cage  whan  he  may  ; 
His  liberte  the  brid  desireth  aye. 
Let  take  a  cat,  and  foster  him  wel  with  mylk 
And  tender  fleisch,  and  make  his  bed  of  silk, 
And  let  him  see  a  mous  go  by  the  wal, 
Anoori  he  wayveth  mylk  and  fleische,  and  al,        17110 

17093.  distroy.  The  Lansd.  TVTs.  lias  dixcrt/ve,  and  Tyrvvliitt  has  adopted 
distrelne,  which  may  perhaps  be  the  best  reading. 

17095.  Tak  any  brid.  This  and  the  following  examples  are  all  taken,  as 
observed  by  Tyrwhitt,  from  the  /toman  de  la  Hose,  but  it  is  hardly  necessary 
to  give  particular  references  to  each. 

17108.  his  bed.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  cnucJie,  which  is  adopted  by  Tyr- 
whitt. It  may  be  observed  that  Tyrwhitt's  text  speaks  of  the  cat  in  the 
feminine  gender,  whereas  the  Harl.  and  Lansd.  Mss.  use  the  masculine,  ae  i» 
the  present  text- 


THE  MA  UNCIPLES  TALE.  499 


And  every  deynte  which  is  in  that  hous, 

Such  appetit  hath  he  to  ete  the  mous. 

Lo,  heer  hath  kynd  his  doniinacioun, 

And  appetit  flemeth  discretioun. 

Al  so  a  sche  wolf  hath  a  vilayns  kynde ; 

Tlie  lewidest  wolf  that  sche  may  fynde, 

Or  lest  of  reputacioun,  him  wol  sche  take 

In  tyine  whan  hir  lust  to  have  a  make. 

A  lie  this  ensamples  tel  I  by  this  men 

That  ben  untrewe,  and  nothing  by  wominen.        17120 

For  men  han  ever  a  licorous  appetit 

On  lower  thing  to  parforme  her  delit 

Than  on  her  wyves,  ben  thay  never  so  faire, 

Ne  never  so  trewe,  ne  so  debonaire. 

Fleissch  is  so  newfangil,  with  meschaunce, 

That  we  can  in  no  thinge  have  plesaunce 

That  souneth  into  vertue  eny  while. 

This  Phebus,  which  that  thought  upon  no  gile, 

Deceyved  was  for  all  his  jolite  ; 

For  under  him  another  hadde  sche.  171SO 

A  man  of  litil  reputacioun, 

Nought  worth  to  Phebus  in  comparisoun  ; 

Mor  harm  it  is  ;  it  happeth  ofte  so  ; 

Of  which  ther  cometh  both  harm  and  woo. 

And  so  bifel,  whan  Phebus  was  absent, 
His  wif  anoon  hath  for  hir  lemman  sent. 
Hir  lemman  ?  certes,  this  is  a  knavisch  speche. 
Forgiveth  it  me,  and  that  I  vow  biseche. 
The  wise  Plato  saith,  as  ye  may  rede, 
The  Avord  mot  neede  accorde  with  the  dede,  17140 

If  men  schal  telle  propurly  a  thing, 
The  word  mot  corde  with  the  thing  werkyng 
I  am  a  boystous  man,  right  thus  say  I ; 
Ther  is  no  difference  trewely 
Bytwix  a  wyf  that  is  of  heigh  degre. 
(If  of  hir  body  dishonest  sche  be) 
And  a  pore  wenehe,  other  then  this 
(If  so  be  thay  werke  bothe  amys), 
But  that  the  gentil  in  estat  above 

Sche  schal  be  cleped  his  lady  as  in  love  ;  17150 

And,  for  that  other  is  a  pore  womman, 
Sche  schal  be  cleped  his  wenehe  and  his  lemman  ; 
And  God  it  wot,  rny  good  lieve  brother, 
Men  layn  that  oon  as  lowe  as  lith  that  other. 

17142.  mot  cortlewith  the  thine/  u-erkyng.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  Harl. 
BIB.,  which  makes  perfectly  good  sense.  Tyrwhitt,  like  the  Liinsd.  .Ms.,  rea«ii 
taunt  cosin  be  to  the  werktng. 


500  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Right  so  bitwixe  a  titleles  tirant 

And  an  outlawe,  or  a  thef  erraunt, 

The  same  I  say,  ther  is  no  difference 

(To  Alisaunder  told  was  this  sentence), 

But,  for  the  tiraunt  is  of  gretter  might 

By  force  of  meyne  for  to  sle  doun  right,  17160 

And  brenne  hous  and  home,  and  make  al  playn, 

Lo,  therfor  is  he  cleped  a  capitayn  ; 

And,  for  an  outlawe  hath  so  smal  meyne, 

And  may  not  doon  so  gret  an  harm  as  he, 

Ne  bringe  a  contre  to  so  gret  meschief, 

Men  clepen  him  an  outlawe  or  a  theef, 

But,  for  I  am  a  man  not  texted  wel, 

I  wil  not  telle  of  textes  never  a  del  j 

I  wol  go  to  my  tale,  as  I  bigari. 

Whan  Phebus  wyf  had  sent  for  hir  lemman,       17170 
Anon  thay  wroughten  al  hir  wil  volage. 
This  white  crow,  that  heng  alway  in  cage, 
Bihild  her  werk,  and  sayde  never  a  word. 
And  whan  that  horn  was  come  Phebus  the  lord, 
This  crowe  song,  "  cuckow,  cuckow,  cuckow  !  " 
"What?  brid,"  quod  Phebus,  "  what  song  syngistow 

now  ? 

Ne  were  thou  wont  so  merily  to  synge, 
That  to  myn  hert  it  was  a  rejoysynge 
To  here  thi  vois  ?  alias !  what  song  is  this  ?  " 
"  By  God,"  quod  he,  "  I  synge  not  amys.  17180 

Phebus,''  quod  he,  "  for  al  thy  worthynes, 
For  al  thy  beaute,  and  thy  gentiles, 
For  alle  thy  songes,  and  thy  meiistralcie, 
For  al  thy  waytyng,  blered  is  thin  ye, 
With  oon  of  litel  reputacioun, 
Nought  worth  to  the  as  in  comparison n 
The  mountauns  of  a  gnat,  so  mot  I  thrive  ; 
For  on  thy  bed  thy  wif  I  saugh  him  swyve." 
What  wol  ye  more  ?  the  crowe  anoon  him  tolde, 
By  sadde  toknes,  and  by  wordes  bolde,  ^7190 

How  that  his  wyf  had  doon  hir  leccherie 
Him  to  gret  schame,  arid  to  gret  vilonye  ; 
And  told  him  oft  he  saugh  it  with  his  yen. 
This  Phebus  gan  away- ward  for  to  wryen  ; 
Him  thought  his  sorwful  brast  on  tuo. 
His  bowe  he  bent,  and  sett  therin  a  flo  ; 
And  in  his  ire  he  hath  his  wyf  i-slayn  ; 
This  is  theffect,  ther  is  no  more  to  sayn. 

17155.  a  titlelee.    This  is  Tyrwhitt's  reading ;  the  Harl.  Ms.  has  atttclei. 
vbich  is  evidently  corrupt,  and  the  l>uikd.  a  titles* 


THE  MA  UNC1PLES  TALK  501 


For  sorw  of  which  he  brak  Ir's  luenstralcye, 

Bothe  harp  and  lute,  gitern,  and  sauterie  ;  17200 

And  eek  he  brak  his  arwes,  and  his  bowe  ; 

And  after  that  thus  spake  he  to  the  crowe  ; 

"  Tray  tour,"  quod  he,  "  with  tunge  of  scorpioun, 

Thow  hast  rne  brought  to  my  confusioun  ; 

Alias  that  I  was  born  !  why  nere  I  deed  ? 

O  dere  wyf,  O  geinnie  of  lustyhed, 

That  were  to  me  so  sad,  and  eek  so  trewe, 

Now  list  thou  deed,  with  face  pale  of  hewe, 

Ful  gulteles,  that  dorst  I  swere  y-wis. 

O  racle  hond,  to  do  so  foule  amys.  17210 

O  trouble  wit,  O  ire  recheles, 

That  unavysed  smytest  gulteles. 

O  waritrust,  ful  of  fals  suspeccioun, 

Wher  was  thy  wit  and  thy  discrecioun  ? 

O,  every  man  be  ware  of  raclenesse, 

Ne  trowe  no  thing  withoute  gret  witnesse. 

Smyt  'nought  to  soone,  er  that  thou  wite  why, 

And  be  avysed  wel  and  sobrely, 

Er  ye  doon  eny  execucioun 

Upon  your  ire  for  suspeccioun.  17220 

Alias !  a  thousand  folk  hath  racle  ire 

Fordoon,  or  Dun  hath  brought  hem  in  myre. 

Alias  !  for  sorw  I  wil  myselven  sle." 

And  to  the  crowe,  "  O  false  theef,"  sayd  he, 

"  I  wil  the  quyt  anoon  thy  false  tale. 

Thow  songe  whilom,  as  any  riightyngale, 

Now  schaltow,  false  thef,  thy  song  forgoon, 

And  eek  thy  white  fetheres,  everichoon, 

Ne  never  in  al  thy  lyf  lie  schaltow  speke  ; 

Thus  seal  men  on  a  fals  theef  ben  awreke.  17230 

Tiiou  and  thin  ofspring  ever  schuln  he  blake, 

Ne  never  sweete  noyse  schul  ye  make, 

But  ever  crye  agayn  tempest  and  rayn, 

In  tokenyng  that  thurgh  the  my  wyf  was  slayn/' 

And  to  the  crowe  he  stert,  and  that  anoon, 
And  puld  his  white  fetheres  everychoon. 
And  made  him  blak,  and  raft  him  al  his  song, 
And  eek  his  spec-he,  and  out  at  dore  him  slong 
Unto  the  devel,  which  I  him  bytake  ; 
And  for  this  cause  ben  alle  crowes  blake.  17240 

Lordyngs,  by  this  ensample,  I  vow  pray, 
Beth  war,  and  taketh  kepe  what  ye  say  ; 

IT?.^.  Dun.  See  before,  1.  1C937.  It  is  said  that  this  proverbial  expression 
arose  from  a  popular  game,  which  was  in  use  as  late  as  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  ami  is  alluded  to  in  the  early  dramatists.  Dun,  of 
courite,  u  the  name  of  a  horse. 


502  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Ne  tellith. never  man  in  al  youre  lif, 
How  that  another  man  hath  dight  his  \vyf  ; 
He  wol  yow  hatin  inortely  certeyn. 
Daun  Salamon,  as  wise  clerkes  seyn, 
Techeth  a  man  to  kepe  his  tonge  wel. 
But,  as  I  sayd,  I  am  nought  tixted  wel 
But  natheles  thus  taughte  me  my  dame  ; 
"My  sone,  thenk  on  the  crowe,  in  Goddes  name.  17250 
My  son,  keep  wel  thy  tonge,  and  kep  thy  frend  ; 
A  wicked  tonge  is  worse  than  a  feend  ; 
My  sone,  fro  a  feend  men  may  hem  blesse. 
My  sone,  God  of  his  endeles  goodnesse 
Wallid  a  tonge  with  teeth,  and  lippes  eek, 
For  man  schal  him  avyse  that  ha  speek. 
My  sone,  ful  ofte  for  to  mochil  speche 
Hath  many  a  man  be  spilt,  as  clerkes  teche  j 
But  for  a  litil  speche  avisily 

Is  no  man  schent,  to  speke  generally.  17260 

My  sone,  thy  tonge  scholdest  thou  restreigne 
At  alle  tyme,  but  whan  thou  dost  thou  peyne 
To  speke  of  God  in  honour  and  in  prayere. 
The  firste  vertue,  sone,  if  thou  wilt  lere, 
Is  to  restreigne  and  kepe  wel  thy  tonge  ; 
Thus  lerne  clerkes,  whan  that  thay  ben  yonge. 
My  sone,  of  mochil  speking  evel  avised, 
Ther  lasse  speking  had  y-nough  suffised, 
Cometh  mochil  harm  ;  thus  was  me  told  and  taught  j 
In  mochel  speche  synne  wantith  nought.  17270 

Wost  thou  wherof  a  racle  tonge  serveth  ? 
Right  as  a  swerd  for-kutteth  and  for-kervetli 
An  arm  atuo,  my  dere  sone,  right  so 
A  tonge  cutteth  frendschip  al  atuo. 
A  jangler  is  to  God  abhominable. 
Red  Salomon,  so  wys  and  honurable, 
Red  David  in  his  Psalmes,  reed  Senek. 
My  sone,  spek  not,  but  with  thy  heed  thou  bek, 
Dissimul  as  thou  were  deed,  if  that  thou  heere 
A  jangler  speke  of  perilous  mateere.  17280 

The  Flemyng  saith,  and  lere  it  if  the  lest, 
That  litil  jangling  causeth  mochil  rest. 
My  sone,  if  thou  no  wikked  word  has  sayd, 
The  thar  riot  drede  for  to  be  bywrayd  ; 
But  he  that  hath  myssayd,  I  dar  wel  sayn, 
17264.  The  jlrste  vertue.    This  is  taken  from  Cato  de  Moribus,  lib.  i.  diet. 
3,— 

Yirtutem  primam  csse  puta  compescere  lingtiam. 

Cato  was  one  of  the  first  book^put  into  the  bauds  of  young  scholars,  which 
explains  the  remarks  here  made  in  Hue  17266. 


THE  PROLOGS  OF  TI1E  PERSONES  TALE.        503 

He  may  by  no  way  clepe  his  word  agayri. 

Thing  that  is  sayd  is  sayd,  and  forth  it  goth, 

Thou  him  repent,  or  be  him  never  so  loth, 

He  is  his  thral,  to  whom  that  he  hath  sayd 

A  tale,  of  which  he  is  now  yvel  apayed.  17290 

My  sone,  be  war,  and  be  noon  auctour  newe 

Of  tydyngs,  whether  thay  ben  fals  or  trevve  ; 

Wher  so  tliou  comest,  amonges  heih  or  lowe, 

Kep  wel  thy  tonge,  and  thenk  upon  the  crowe." 

THE  PROLOGS  OF  THE  PERSONES  TALE. 

BY  that  the  Maunciple  had  his  tale  endid, 

The  sonne  fro  the  south  line  is  descendid 

So  lowe,  that  it  nas  nought  to  my  sight 

Degrees  nyne  and  twenty  as  in  bight. 

Ten  on  the  clokke  it  was,  as  I  gesse, 

For  enleven  foote,  or  litil  more  or  lesse,  17300 

My  schadow  was  at  thilk  tyme  of  the  yere, 

Of  which  feet  as  my  lengthe  parted  were 

In  sixe  feet  equal  of  proporcioun. 

Therwith  the  mones  exaltaciouii, 

In  mena  Libra,  alway  gan  asceiide, 

tT291.  be  noon  auctour  newe.     This  also  is  taken  from  Cato,  lib.  i.  disk  2, — 

Kumores  fuge,  ne  incipias  novus  auctor  haberi, 
Which  Chaucer  seems  to  have  read,— 

Kumoris  fuge  ne  incipiaa  novus  auctor  haberi. 

17299.  Ten.  I  have  not  ventured  to  change  the  reading  of  the  Harl.  Ms., 
which  is  partly  supported  by  that  of  the  Lansd.  Ms.  Than.  Tyrwhitt,  who 
reads  fourv,  makes  the  following  observation  on  this  passage  :  "  In  this  Pro- 
logue, which  introduces  the  last  tale  upon  the  journey  to  Canterbury, 
Chaucer  has  again  pointed  out  to  us  the  time  of  the  day  :  but  the  hour  by  the 
clock  is  very  ditferently  represented  in  the  MSS.  In  some  it  is  ten,  in  others 
two.  ii:  most  of  the  best  M.ss./ou/r  "  (Tyrwhitt's  judgment  of  the  MSS.  is  not 
to  be  depended  upon),  "  and  in  one  tirn.  According  to  the  phenomena  here 
mentioned,  the  sun  being  29"  high,  and  the  length  of  the  shadow  to  the  pro- 
jecting body  as  eleven  to  six,  it  w:is  between  foil  re  and  tire.  As  by  this  reck- 
oning there  were  at  least  three  hours  left  to  sunset,  one  'does  not  well  see  with 
what  propriety  the  host  admonishes  the  person  to  hnxle  him,  because  '  /he 
to/uit  wot  adoiui,'  and  to  be  'friftuoits  hi  lite!  space  .  '  and  indeed  the  person. 
knowing  probably  how  much  time  he  had  good,  seems  to  have  paid  7iot  the 
least  regard  to  his  admonition  :  for  his  tale,  if  it  may  he  so  called,  is  twice  as 
long  as  any  of  the  others.  It  is  entitled  in  some  MSS-  '  Troctatux  tie  PceniteT!- 
tia,  profabiita,  tit  ilidtur.  fiectoris;'  and  I  much  suspect  that  it  is  a  transla- 
tion of  some  such  treatise." 

173H5.  In  mena  Libra.  "  This  is  a  very  obscure  passage.  Some  of  the  MSS. 
read  /  mcne  Libra.  According  to  the  reading  which  I  have  followed,  e.ra/fa- 
tidii  is  not  to  be  considered  as  a  technical  term,  but  as  signifying  simply 
rising;  and  the  sense  will  be,  that  the  moon's  rininr/ in  the  middle  of  Libra, 
tra.s-  continual/if  asccnilinr/,  etc.  If  exaltation  be  taken  in  its  technical  mean- 
ing, as  explained  in  a  former  note,  it  will  be  impossible  to  make  any  sense  of 
either  of  the  readings  :  for  the  exaltation  of  the  moon  was  not  in  Libra,  but  in 
'''utru.t.  K'aleiutriertles  Ben/iers,  sign.  I.  ult.  Mr.  Speght,  I  suppose,  being 
»wi*ie  of  this,  altered  Libra  iiito  Taurus  ;  but  he  did  not  consider  that  the  sun, 


604  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


As  we  were  entryng  at  a  townes  ende. 

For  which  our  host,  as  he  was  wont  to  gye, 

As  in  this  caas,  our  joly  compaignye, 

Sayd  in  this  wise  :  "  Lordings,  everichoon, 

Now  lakketh  us  no  moo  tales  than  oon,  17C16 

Fulfilled  is  my  sentens  and  my  decre  ; 

I  trowe  that  we  han  herd  of  ech  degre. 

Almost  fulfilled  is  myn  ordynaunce  ; 

I  pray  to  God  so  geve  him  right  good  chaunce, 

That  tellith  to  us  his  tale  lustily. 

Sir  prest,"  quod  he,  "  artow  a  vicory? 

Or  artow  a  persouii  ?  say  soth,  by  thy  fay. 

Be  what  thou  be,  ne  breke  nought  oure  play ; 

For  every  man,  save  thou,  hath  told  his  tale. 

Unbocle,  and  schew  us  what  is  in  thy  male.  17820 

For  trewely  me  thinketh  by  thy  chier, 

Thou  scholdist  wel  knyt  up  a  gret  matier. 

Tel  us  a  tale  arioon,  for  cokkes  booties  !  " 

This  Persoun  him  answerde  al  at  ooues : 
"  Thou  getist  fable  noon  i-told  for  me, 
For  Poul,  that  writes  unto  Timothe, 
Repreveth  hem  that  weyveth  sothfastnesse, 
And  tellen  fables,  and  such  wrecchednesse. 
Why  schuld  I  so  wen  draf  out  of  my  fest, 
Whan  I  may  so  we  whete,  if  that  me  lest  ?  17330 

For  which  I  say,  if  that  vow  lust  to  hiere 
Moralite  and  vertuous  matiere, 
And  thanne  that  ye  will  give  me  audience, 
I  wol  ful  fayn  at  Cristis  reverence 
Do  yow  plesaunce  leful,  as  I  can. 
But  trusteth  wel,  I  am  a  suthern  man, 
I  can  not  geste,  rum,  rat,  ruf,  by  letter, 
Ne,  God  wot,  rym  hold  I  but  litel  better. 

which  has  just  been  said  to  be  descending,  was  at  that  time  in  Taurus,  and 
that  consequently  Taurus  must  also  have  been  descending.  Libra,  therefore, 
should  by  no  means  be  parted  with.  Being  in  that  part  of  the  zodiac  which 
is  nearly  opposite  to  Taurus,  the  place  of  the  sun,  it  is  very  properly  repre- 
sented as  ascending  above  the  horizon  toward  the  time  of  the  sun's  setting, 
If  any  alteration  were  to  be  admitted,  I  should  be  for  reading— 

Therwith  Saturnes  exaltation, 

I  mene  Libra,  alway  gan  ascende — 

The  exaltation  of  Saturn  was  in  Libra.  Kalendrler  <?<>s  lingers,  sign.  K.  i." 
—  Tyrwhitt. 

17306.  a  toicnes-    The  Lansd.  ATs.  reads  al  the  thrnprs  end?. 

17323.  tale.  The  Lansd.  Ms.  reads  fable,  which  is  the  reading  adopted  by 
Tyrwhitt,  and  it  seems  to  be  authorized  by  the  parson's  reply. 

17837.  rum,  rnf,  ruf.  This  seems  generally  to  be  understood  as  an  irnnica'i 
allusion  to  the  popular  alliterative  verse  of  Chaucer's  age,  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  rhyme,  which  is  spoken  of  hi  the  line  following. 


THE  PER  SON  ES  TALE.  505 


And  therfor,  if  yow  lust,  I  Jvol  not  glose, 

I  wol  vow  telle  a  inery  tale  in  prose,  17340 

To  knyt  up  al  this  fest,  and  make  an  ende  \ 

And  Jhesu  for  his  grace  wit  me  sende 

To  schewe  yow  the  way,  in  this  viage, 

Of  thilke  perfyt  glorious  pilgrimage 

That  hatte  Jerusalem  celestial. 

And  if  ye  vouchesauf.  anoon  I  schal 

Bygynne  my  tale,  for  which  I  yow  pray 

Telle  your  avis,  I  can  no  better  say. 

But  riatheles  this  meditacioun 

I  put  it  ay  under  correcciouri  1735( 

Of  clerkes,  for  1  am  not  textuel  • 

1  take  but  the  sentens,  trustith  wel. 

Therfor  I  make  protestacioun, 

That  I  wol  staiide  to  correccioun." 

Upen  this  word  we  han  assented  soone. 
For,  as  it  seined,  it  was  for  to  done, 
To  enden  in  som  vertuous  sentence, 
And  for  to  gev  him  space  and  audience  ; 
And  bad  oure  host  he  schulde  to  him  say, 
That  alle  we  to  telle  his  tale  him  pray. 
Our  host  hadde  the  wordes  for  us  alle  ; 
"  Sir  prest,"  quod  he,  "  now  faire  yow  bifalle  ; 
Say  what  yow  lust,  and  we  will  gladly  hiere." 
And  with  that  word  he  said  in  tins  manere  ; 
"  Telleth,"  quod  he,  "  your  meditacioun; 
But  hasteth  yow,  the  sonne  wol  adoun. 
Beth  fructuous,  and  that  in  litel  space, 
And  to  do  wel  God  sende  yow  his  gi-ace." 

THE    PERSOXES   TALE. 

Jer.  61.  Statr-.snper  riits.  ft  rMctc  et  interrogate  tie 
(intirjiu'xquie  nit  via  bona,  ct  ambulate  in  ea,  et 
ietis  rrfrigerium  animabus  vestris,  etc. 

OWRE  swete  Lord  God  of  heven,  that  no  man  vil  pen 
ische,  but  wol  that  we  comen  alle  to  the  knowlecheof  him, 
and  to  the  blisful  lif  that  is  perdurable,  ammonestith  us 
by  the  prophet  Jeremye,  that  saith  in  this  wise  :  Stondeth 
upon  the  weyes,  and  seeth  and  axeth  of  olde  pathes,  that 
is  to  sayn,  of  olde  sentence,  which  is  the  good  way,  and 

Thf  Persons  Tale.  In  all  probability  this  is  a  free  translation  of  some 
treatise  on  penitence,  but  it  is  hardly  worth  our  \vbile  to  look  far  after  the  or- 
k'inal.  Tyr\vbitt's  opinion  has  been  given  in  the  note  on  1.  172:>9.  The  refer- 
eni''-u  to  Scripture,  anil  to  the  theological  writer-;  of  the  Romish  Churoll,  arc 
bo  nun. Broils  that  I  aaall  uol  attempt  to  verify  them. 


506  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

ye  schul  fynde  refresshyng  for  youre  soules,  etc.  Many  ben 
the  waves  espirituels  that  leden  folk  to  oure  Lord  Jhesu 
Christ,  and  to  the  regne  of  glorie  ;  of  whiche  weyes,  ther  is 
a  ful  noble  way,  arid  ful  corivenable,  which  may  not  faile 
to  man  ne  to  wouiman,  that  thorugh  syrine  hath  mysgon 
fro  the  right  way  of  Jerusalem  celestial  ;  arid  this  wey  is 
cleped  penitence.  Of  whiche  men  schulderi  gladly  herken 
and  enquere  with  al  here  herte,  to  wyte  what  is  penitence, 
and  wheris  it  is  cleped  penitence,  and  in  what  maner,  and 
in  how  many  maneres  been  the  acciones  or  workynges  of 
penance,  and  how  many  spieces  ben  of  penitences,  and 
whiche  thinges  apperteyrien  and  byhoven  to  penitence  and 
whiche  thinges  destourben  penitence. 

Seint  Ambrose  saith,  that  penitence  is  the  pleynyng  of 
man  for  the  gult  that  he  hath  doon  and  no  more  to  do  oriy 
thing  for  which  him  oughte  to  pleigne.  Arid  som  doctour 
saith,  penitence  is  the  waymerityrige  of  man  that  sorweth 
for  his  syrine,  and  peyneth  himself  for  he  hath  mysdoon. 
Penitence,  with  certeyri  circurnstaunces,  is  verray  reperit- 
aunce  of  man,  that  holt  himself  in  sorwe  and  in  woo  for  his 
giltes,  and  for  he  schal  be  verray  penitent,  he  schal  first 
bywaile  the  synnes  that  he  hath  do,  arid  stedfastly  pur- 
posen  in  his  hert  to  haven  schrifte  of  mouth,  and  to  doon 
satisfaccioun,  and  never  to  do  thing  for  which  him  oughte 
more  to  by  wayle  or  to  complayrie,  arid  to  continue  in  goode 
werkes,  or  elles  his  reperitaunce  may  nought  avayle.  For, 
as  saith  seint  Isidor,  he  is  a  japere  and  a  gabbere,  arid  no 
verray  repentaunt,  that  eftsoone  doth  thing  for  which  him 
oughte  to  repente.  Wepynge,  and  nought  for  to  stynte  to 
doon  synne,  may  nought  avayle.  But  natheles,  men  schal 
hope  tiiat  at  every  tyme  that  men  fallith,  be  it  never  so 
ofte,  that  he  may  arise  thorugh  penitence,  if  he  have  grace  ; 
but  certeyn  it  is  gret  doute.  For  as  saith  seint  Gregory, 
unnethe  arist  he  out  of  his  synne  that  is  charged  with  the 
charge  of  y  vel  usage.  And  therfore  repentaunt  folk  that 
stinte  for  to  synne  and  forlete  synne  er  that  synne  forlete 
hem,  holy  chirche  holte  hem  siker  of  her  savacioun.  And 
he  that  syrmeth,  and  verraily  reperitith  him  in  his  last  ende, 
holy  chirche  yit  hopeth  his  savacioun,  by  the  grete  mercy 
of  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  for  his  repentaurice  ;  but  take  ye 
the  siker  way. 

Arid  now  sith  that  I  have  declared  vow,  what  thing  is 
penitence,  now  schul  ye  uriderstonde.  that  there  ben  thre 
acciouns  of  penitence,  The  first  is,  that  if  a  man  be  bap- 
tized after  that  he  hath  synned.  Saint  Augusryn  saith, 
but  if  he  be  penitent  for  his  olde  syiiful  lif,  he  may  not  by- 
gyrine  the  newe  clene  lif.  For  certes,  ji'  he  be  baptized 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  50? 

withoute  penitence  of  his  oldo  gilt,  he  receyveth  the  mark 
of  baptisme,  but  nought  the  grace,  nethe  rernissioun  of  his 
fiynnes,  til  he  have  repentauiice  verray.  Another  defaute 
is  this,  that  men  doon  deedljr  synne  after  that  thay  have 
recyved  baptisme.  The  thridde  defaute  is,  that  men  fallen 
into  venial  synne  after  here  baptisme  fro  day  to  day. 
Therof  saith  seint  Austyri,  that  penitence  of  good  men, 
and  of  humble  folk,  is  the  penitens  of  every  day. 

The  spices  of  penitence  ben  thro.  That  oon  of  hem  is 
solemprie.  another  is  comune,  arid  the  thridde  is  pryv«. 
Thilke  penaunce  that  is  solempne,  is  in  tuo  maners  ;  as  is 
to  be  put  out  of  holy  chirche  in  lente,  for  slaughtre  of 
childre,  arid  such  maner  thing.  Another  is,  whan  a  man 
hath  synned  openly,  of  which  synne  the  fame  is  openly 
spoken  in  tlie  contre  ;  and  thanne  holy  chirche  by  jugga- 
merit  streyneth  him  to  doon  open  penaunce.  Comune 
penaunce  is,  that  prestos  erijoynen  men  comunly  in  cc-fteyn 
caas,  as  for  to  goon  peradventure  naked  in  pilgrimage,  or 
barfot.  Prive  ponaunce  is  thilk  that  men  doon  alday  for 
privii  synnes,  of  whiche  we  schry  ve  us  privoly,  and  recey  ven 
prive  penaunce. 

Now  schalt  now  understonde  what  bihoveth  and  is  ne- 
cessarie  to  verray  perfyt  penitence  ;  and  this  stondith  in 
thre  thinges,  coritricioun  of  hert,  confossioun  of  mouth,  arid 
satisfaccioun.  For  whiche  saith  seint  Jolian  Crisostom, 
penitence  distreyneth  a  man  to  accepte  benignely  every 
peyne  that  him  is  enjoyned  with  contricioun  of  herte,  and 
schrift  of  mouth,  with  satisfaccioun,  and  working  of  alle 
maner  humblete.  And  this  is  fruytful  penitence  agayn  tho 
thre  thinges,  in  whiche  we  wraththe  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist ; 
this  is  to  sayn,  by  delit  in  thinking,  rocholesnes  in  spoking, 
and  by  wicked  synful  workyng.  Again  these  thre  wicked 
gultes  is  penitence,  that  may  be  likned  unto  a  tre. 

The  roote  of  this  tro  is  contricioun,  that  hydith  him 
in  the  hert  of  him  that  is  verray  repentaunt,  right  as 
the  roote  of  a  tree  hideth  him  in  the  eorthe.  Of  the  roote 
of  contricioun  springeth  a  stalk,  that  bereth  brau riches 
and  leeves  of  confessiouri  and  fruyt  of  satisfaccioun.  For 
whiche  Crist  saith  in  his  Gospel,  doth  digrre  fruyt  of 
penitence,  for  by  this  fruyt  may  men  knowe  this 
tree,  and  nought  by  the  roote  that  is  hyd  in  the  hert  of 
a  man,  no  by  the  brauriches  ne  the  levys  of  confessiouri. 
And  therfore  oure  Lord  Jliesu  Christ  saith  thus,  by  the 
fruyt  of  hem  schul  ye  knowe  hem.  Of  this  roote  eek 
springeth  a  seed  of  grace,  the  which  seed  is  mooder  of  sik- 
urnes,  and  this  seed  is  egre  and  hooto.  The  grace  of  thia 
seed  springeth  of  God,  thorugh  reiuenibraunce  of  the  day 


508  THE  CANTERBUSY  TALES. 


of  doom,  and  of  the  peynes  of  helle.  Of  this  matier  saith 
Salomon,  that  in  the  drede  of  God  man  forleteth  his  synne. 
The  hete  of  this  seed  is  the  love  of  God,  arid  the  desiring  of 
the  joye  perdurable.  This  hete  draweth  the  hert  of  man 
to  God,  and  doth  him  hate  his  synne.  For  sothe,  ther  is 
nothing  that  serveth  so  \vel 1  to  a  child,  as  the  milk  of  his 
norice,  ne  nothing  is  to  him  more  abhominable  than  the 
milk  whan  it  is  melled  with  other  mete.-  Right  sothe  syri- 
ful  man  that  loveth  his  synne,  him  semeth  it  is  to  him  niost 
swete  of  eny  thing;  but  fro  that  tyme  that  he  loveth  sadJy 
oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  and  desireth  the  lif  perdurable,  ther 
nys  to  him  nothing  more  abhominable.  For  which  Davyd 
saith,  I  have  loved  thy  la  we,  and  hated  wikkednesse  and 
hate  ;  he  that  loveth  God,  keepeth  his  lawe  and  his  word. 
This  tree  saugh  the  prophete  Daniel  in  spirit,  upon  the 
avysioun  of  Nabugodonosor,  whan  he  counselled  him  to  do 
penaunce.  Penaunce  is  tre  of  lif  to  hem  that  it  receyven  ; 
and  he  that  holdeth  him  in  verray  penitence,  is  blessed, 
and  after  the  sentence  of  Salomon. 

In  this  penitence  or  contricioun  men  schal  understonde 
foure  thinges,  that  is  to  sayri,  what  is  contricioun,  and 
whiche  ben  the  causes  that  moeven  men  to  contricioun, 
and  how  he  schuldebe  contrit,  and  what  contricioun  avail- 
eth  to  the  soule.  Tharine  it  is  thus,  that  contricioun  is  the 
verray  sorwe  that  a  man  receyveth  in  his  herte  for  his 
synnes,  with  sad  purpos  to  schryve  him,  and  to  doo  pen- 
aunce, and  never  more  to  don  synne.  And  this  sorwe  schal 
be  in  this  maner,  as  saith  seint  Bernard  ;  it  schal  ben  hevy 
and  grevous.  and  ful  scharp  and  poynaunt  in  herte  ;  first, 
for  man  had  agilted  his  Lord  and  his  creatour;  and  more 
scharp  and  poynaunt,  for  he  hath  agilted  his  fader  celestial  : 
and  yit  more  scharp  and  poynaunt,  for  he  hath  wratthed 
and  agilt  him  that  bought  him  with  his  precious  blood, 
arid  hath  dely  vered  us  fro  the  bondes  of  synne,  and  fro  the 
cruelte  of  the  devel.  and  fro  the  peynes  of  helle. 

The  causes  that  oughten  to  moeve  a  man  to  contricioun 
ben  vj.  First,  a  man  schal  remembre  him  of  his  synnes. 
But  loke  that  thilke  remembraunce  be  to  no  delyt  of  him 
by  no  way,  but  gret  schame  and  sorwe  for  his  gilt.  For 
Job  saith  that  synful  men  doon  werkes  worthy  of  confes- 
sioun.  And  therfor  saith  Ezechiel,  1  wol  remembre  alle  the 
yeres  of  my  lif,  in  bitternesse  of  myn  herte.  Arid  God  saith 
in  thapocalips,  remembre  vow  from  whens  that  ye  ben 

1  serreth  so  wel.    Tyrwhitt  adopts  the  reading  sarmircth  so  safe. 

3  melled  H'i/h  other  mete.  The  words  with  outer  which  seem  necessary  for 
the  sense,  although  omitted  iu  the  llai  1.  Ms.,  are  adopted  frt> in  the  Lan»ii. 
Ms. 


THE  PERSONES  TALES.  509 


falle,  for  biforn  that  tyine  that  ye  synned,  ye  were  thechil- 
dreu  of  God,  and  lyniine  of  the  regrie  of  God  ; 8  but  for 
youre  synrie  ye  be  woxe  thral,  and  foul,  and  inembres  of 
the  feend,  hate  of  aungels,  sclaunder  of  holy  chirche,  and 
foode  of  the  fals  serpent,  perpetuel  inatier  of  the  fuyr  of 
helle,  and  yet  more  foule  and  abhominable,  for  ye  tres- 
passen  so  ofte  fyine,  as  doth  the  hound  that  torneth  to  ete 
his  spewyng ;  and  yet  ye  ben  fouler  for  youre  longe  con- 
tinuyng  in  synne,  and  youre  synful  usage,  for  whiche  ye 
ben  roten  in  youre  synne,  as  a  beest  in  his  donge.  Suche 
uianer  of  though tes  make  a  man  have  schame  of  his  synne, 
and  no  delit  ;  and  God  saith,  by  the  prophete  Ezechiel,  ye 
schul  reinembre  yow  of  youre  weyes,  and  thay  schal  dis- 
plese  yow.  Sothly,  synnes  ben  the  way  that  leden  folk  to 
helle 

The  secouride  cause  that  oughte  make  a  man  to  have 
disdeyn  of  his  synne  is  this,  that,  as  seith  seint  Petre,  who 
so  dothe  synne  is  thral  of  synne,  and  synne  put  a  man  in 
gret  thraldom.  And  therfore  saith  the  prophete  Ezechiel, 
I  wente  sorwful,  in  disdeyn  of  myself.  Certes,  wel  oughte 
a  man  have  disdeyn  of  myself.  Certes,  wel  oughte  a  man 
have  disdeyn  of  synne,  arid  withdrawe  him  fro  that  tlnal- 
dom  and  vilonye.  And  lo  what  saith  Seneca  in  this  matiere. 
He  saith  thus,  though  I  wiste,  that  nere  God  ne  man 
schulda  never  knowe  it,  yit  would  1  have  disdeyn  for  to  do 
synne.  And  the  same  Seneca  also  saith,  I  am  born  to 
gretter  thinges  than  to  be  thral  to  my  body,  or  than  for  to 
make  of  my  body  a  thral.  Ne  a  fouler  thral  may  no  man, 
ne  womman,  make  of  his  body,  than  give  his  body  to  synne. 
And  were  it  the  foulest  cherl,  or  the  foulest  womman,  that 
lyveth,  and  lest  of  value,  yet  is  thanne  synne4  more  foul, 
and  more  in  servitude.  Ever  fro  the  heigher  degre  that 
man  fallith,  the  more  is  his  thral,  and  more  to  God  and  to 
the  world5  vile  and  abhominable.  O  goode  God!  wel 
oughte  a  man  have  gret  disdayn  of  such  a  thing  that 
thorugh  syrine,  ther  he  was  free,  now  is  he  maked  bonde. 
And  therfore  saith  seint  Austyn<  if  thou  hast  disdayn  of 
servaunt,  if  he  agilte  or  synne,  have  thou  than  disdeigne'5 
that  thou  rliis^lf  schuldist  do  synne.  Tuk  reward  of  thy 
value,  that  thou  be  nought  to  foul  in  thiself.  Alias!  wei 
oughte  men  have  disdeyn  to  be  servauntes  and  thralles  to 

3  and  li/mmr . .  .  God.     These  words,  omitted  in  the  Ilarl.  Ms.,  are  sup- 
plied from  the  Lansd.  Ms. 

4  t/innitc  si/nnc.     Tyrvvhitt  reads  ytt  is  lie  than  m<»vj''Ule. 

•"'  and  lo  tlie  world.  These  words,  taken  from  the  Lansd.  Ms  ,  are  not  in 
the  Harl.  Ms. 

11  of  thii  acrraiint .. .  ilisdcii/it;-.  Tho-^e  words,  omit  tod  by  411  evident  erroi 
»i  '.be  scrihe  in  the  Harl.  Ms.,  are  supplied  f  n.iu  tiie  LansU.  MM. 


510  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


synne,  and  sore  ben  aschamed  of  hemself,  that  God  of  his 
endeles  goodnes  hath  set  hem  in  heigh  estate,  or  geven  hem 
witte,  strength  of  body,  hele,  beaute,  or  prosperite,  and 
bought  hem  fro  the  det-h  with  his  herte  blood,  that  thay  so 
urikindely  ageinst  his  gentilesce  quyteri  him  so  vileyrisly, 
to  slaughter  of  her  oughne  soules.  O  goode  God  !  ye  worn- 
men  that  ben  of  so  gret  beaute,  remembreth  vow  of  the 
proverbe  of  Salomon,  that  saith  he  likeneth  a  fair  worn- 
man,  that  is  a  fool  of  hir  body,  to  a  ryrig  of  gold  that  were 
in  the  groyn  of  a  sowe ;  for  right  as  a  sowe  wroteth  in 
everich  ordure,  so  wrootith  sche  hir  beaute  in  stynking 
ordure  of  synrie. 

The  thridde  cause,  that  oughte  to  moeve  a  man  to  con- 
triciburi,  is  drede  of  the  day  of  doome,  and  of  the  orrible 
peynes  of  helle.  For  as  seirit  Jeroin  saith,  at  every  tyme 
that  I  remembre  of  the  day  of  doom,  I  quake  ;  for  whan  I 
ete  or  drinke,  or  what  so  that  I  doo,  ever  semeth  me  that 
the  trompe  sowneth  in  myn  eere,  riseth  ye  up  that  ben 
deede,  and  cometh  to  the  juggement.  O  goode  God ! 
mochil  ought  a  man  to  drede  such  a  juggement,  ther  as  we 
schul  be  alle,  as  seith  seirit  Poul,  biforn  the  sete  of  our  Lord 
Jhesu  Crist ;  wher  as  he  schal  make  a  general  congre- 
gacioun,  wher  as  no  man  may  ben  absent ;  for  certes  ther 
avayleth  non  essoyne  ne  excusacioun  ;  and  nought  oorily, 
that  oure  defaute  schal  be  juged,  but  eek  that  alle 
oure  werkes  schul7  be  openly  knowen.  And,  a  seint 
Bernard  saith,  ther  schal  no  pleynyrig  avayle,  ne  no 
sleight  ;  we  schuln  give  rekenyng  of  every  ydel  word.  Ther 
schulle  we  have  a  juge  that  may  nought  be  disceyved  ne 
corrupt  ;  and  why  ?  for  certes,  alle  oure  thougrites  ben 
descovered  as  to  him.  lie  for  prayer  ne  for  meede  he  nyl  not 
be  corupt.  And  therfore  saith  Salomon,  the  wraththe  of 
God  ne  wol  nought  spare  110  wight,  for  praier  ne  for  gift. 
And  therfore  at  the  day  of  doom  thru-  is  no  hope  to  eschape. 
Wherfore,  as  seint  Anselm  seith,  ful  greet  anguisch  schuln 
the  synful  folk  have  at  that  tyme  ;  there  schal  be  thesterne 
and  the  wroth  juge  sitte  above,  and  under  him  the  horrible 
put  of  helle  open,  to  destroye  him  'that  wolde  not  byknowe 
his  synnes,  which  synnes  openly  ben  schewed  biforn  God 
and  biforn  every  creature  •  and  on  the  lyft  syde,  mo  divelis 
than  herte  may  thynke,  for  to  hary  and  todrawethe  synful 
soules  to  the  pyne  of  helle  ;  and  withinne  the  hertes  of  falk 
schal  be  the  bytyng  conscience,  and  withoute  forth  schal 
be  the  world  al  brennyng.  Winder  schal  than  the  wrecche 
synful  man  flee  to  hyderi  him  ?  Certes  he  may  not  hyde  him, 

7  bejui/eil . .  .  xchn1.    Tliepo  words  have  been  accidentally  omitted  in  tb« 
fcrl.  Ms.    They  ate  sui>i>lird  from  the  Lan&U.  Ms. 


7HK  PbKSONES  TALES.  511 


ne  moot  come  forth  and  schewe  him.     For  oertes,  as  seith 
seynt  Jerom,  the  erthe  schal  cast  him  out  of  him,  and  the 
see  also,  and  the  aer  also,  that  schal   be  ful   of   thunder 
clappes  and  lightnynges.     Now  sothly,  who  so  well  remem- 
britii  him  of  these  tydynges,  I  gesse  his  synne  schal  not 
torne  him  to  delit,  but  to  gret  sorw,  for  drede  of  the  peyne 
of  helle.     And  therfore  saitli  Job  to  God,  sulTre,  Lord,  that 
I  may  a  while   biwayle   and  wepe,   or  I  go   withoute  re- 
tournynge  to  the  derk  loud,  covered  with  derkness  of  deth, 
to  the  lond  of  mysese  and  of  derknesse,   wher  a.-?   is   the 
shadow  of  deth,  wher  as  is  noon  order  ne  ordinaunce,  but 
grislich  drede  that  ever  schal  last.     Loo,  her  may  ye  see, 
that  Job  prayde  res  pit  a   while,  to  wept  and  biwayle  his 
trespas  ;  for  forsothe  0011  day  of  resprt  is  bettre  than  al  the 
tresor  in  this  world.      And  for  as  moehe  as  »   man   may 
aqtiyte  himself  byforn  God  by  penaunce  in  this  world,  and 
not  by  tresor,  therfore  schuld  he  pray  to  God  give  him 
respit  a  while,  to  wepe  and  to  waile  his  trespas.     For  certes, 
al  the  sorwe  that  a  man  myglit  make  fro  the  begynnynge 
of  the8  world,  nys  but  a  litel  thing,  at  regard  of  the  sorwe 
of  helle.     The  cause  why  that  Job  calleth  helle  the  lond  of 
derknes,  uriderstondith,  that  he  clepith  it  lond  or  eorthe, 
for  it  is  stable  and  never  schal  favle,  and  derk,  for  he  that 
is  in  helle  hath  defaut  of  light  material,  for  certes  the  derke 
light  that  schal  come  out  of  the  fuyrthat  ever  schal  brenne, 
schal  torne  him  to  peyne  that  is  in  belle,  for  it  schewith 
him   to   thorrible  develes  that  him   tormenten.      Covered 
with  the  derknes  of  deth  ;  that  is  to  sayn,  that  he  that  is 
in  helle,  schal  have  defaute  of  the  sight  of  God  ;  for  certes, 
the  sight  of  God  is   the   lif  perdurable.      The  derknes  of 
deth,  ben  the  synnes  that   tlie  wrecchid  man   hath  doon, 
whiche  that  stourben  him  to  see  the  face  of  God,  right  as  a 
derk  cloud  doth  bitwixe  us  and  thesonne.  Lond  of  myseyse  ; 
bycause  that  there  ben  thre  maner  of  defautes  agains  thre 
t  hinges  that  folk  of  this  world  han  in  this  present  lif,  that 
is  to  sayn,  honures,  delices,  and  richesses.     Agayns  honours 
han  they  in  helle  schame  and  confusioun  ;  for  wel  ye  witen, 
that  men  clepyri  honure  the  reverence  that  men  doon  to 
the  man  ;   biu  in  helle  is  noon  honour  ne  reverence;  for 
certes  no  mure  reverence  schal   ben  doon  ther  to  a  kyng, 
than  to  a   knave.     For  which  God  saith   by  the  prophets 
Jeremie,   thilke   folk   that   me   displesen,  schul    be  despit. 
Honour  is  the  eke  cleped  gret  lordschipe.     There  schal  no 
wight  serven  othir  but  of  harm  and  torment.     Honour  eek 
is  cleped  gret  dignite   and    heighnes;    but  in   helle  schull<» 

*  sorwe  . . .  the,     UJuiiteil  in  the  iliirl.  M6.    Tiey  ure  supplied   licau   tiM 
Uuisd.  Me. 


512  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

thay  be  al  for-trode  of  develes.  And  Gfod  saith.  thorrihlr 
devriles  schu  u  go  .»d  and  coinen  upon  the  heedes  of  darnpiied 
.'oik  ;  and  this  id,  for  als  moche  as  the  heyher  that  thay 
vere  in  this  present  lif,  the  more  schuln  thay  ben  abatid 
'.nd  defouled  in  lielle.  Agayns  riches  of  this  world  schuln 
Uiay  han  mysese  of  povert,  and  this  povert  schal  be  in  iiij . 
thinges  :  in  defaut  of  tresor  ;  of  which,  as  David  saith,  the 
Hche  folk  that  einbraseden  and  onedin  in  al  here  herte  the 
tresor  of  this  world,  schuln  slepen  in  the  slepyng  of  deth, 
and  nothing  schuln  thay  fynde  in  her  homles  of  al  her 
tresor.  And  moreover,  the  mysease  of  helle  schal  be  in  the 
defaut  of  mete  and  drink.  For  God  saith  thus  by  Moyses, 
thay  schul  be  wasted  by  hunger,  and  the  briddes  of  helle 
schuln  devoure  hem  with  bittir  teeth,  and  the  galle  of  the 
dragoun  schal  be  her  drink,  and  the  venym  of  the  dragoun 
here  morsels.  And  forther-moreover  her  misease  schal  be 
in  defaut  of  clothing,  for  thay  schul  be  naked  in  body,  as 
of  clothing,  save  of  fuyr  in  which  thay  brenne,  and  other 
filthis  ;  and  naked  schuln  thay  be  of  soule,  of  alle  maner 
vertues,  which  that  is  the  clothing  of  the  soule.  Wher  ben 
thanne  the  gaye  robes,  arid  the  softescheetis,  and  the  smale 
schirt^s?  Lo,  what  saith  of  hem  the  prophete  Isaye,  under 
hem  fcchuln  be  strawed  motthis,  and  here  covertours  schuln 
ben  or  wornies  of  helle.  And  forther-morover  here  disease 
schal  be  in  defaute  of  frendes,for  he  is  not  poveie  that  hath 
goode  frendes  ,  but  here  is  no  frend,  for  neither  God  ne  no 
creature  sehal  be  frend  unto  hem,  and  everich  of  hem  schal 
hate  other  with  dddly  hate.  The  sones  and  the  doughtres 
schuln  rebellen  agains  the  fader  and  the  mooder,  and 
kynrede  agayns  kyiirede,  and  chiden  and  despisen  everich 
of  hem  other,  bothe  day  and  night,  as  God  saith  by  the 
prophete  Michias,  and  the  lovyng  children  that  whilom 
loveden  so  fleisschlich  everych  other  wolden  everych  of 
hem  eten  other  if  thay  mighten.  For  how  schulden  thay 
loven  hem  togider  in  the  peyne  of  helle,  whan  thay  hated 
everich  of  hem  other  in  the  prosperite  of  this  lit'?  For 
trustith  wel,  her  fleisshly  love  was  dedly  hate  ;  as  saith  the 
prophete  David,  who  so  that  loveth  wickidnes,  he  haled 
his  soule,  and  who  so  hatith  his  oughne  soule,  certis  he  may 
love  noon  other  wight  in  no  manere.  And  therfore  in  helle 
is  no  solaee  ne  frendschipe,  but.  ever  the  more  flesshly 
kyriredes  that  ben  in  helle,  the  more  cursyiige,  the  more 
chydynges,  arid  the  more  deedly  hate  ther  is  among  hem. 
And  fortherover  thay  schul  have  defaute  of  alle  manere 
delices.  for  certis  delices  ben  the  appetites  of  thy  fyva 
witte^  f  as  sight,  hieryng,  smeilyng,  savoryng,  and  touching. 
Hut  iu  hellu  here  sight  si-hal  be  ful  of  derknes  and  of  smoke, 


THE  PERSON  ES  TALE. 


and  her  eyen  9  ful  of  teeris ;  and  her  hieryng  ful  of  way- 
inentyiige,  and  of  gruntynge  of  teeth,  as  saith  Jhesu  Crist, 
her  nosethurles  schuln  ben  ful  of  stynkyng  stynk  ;  and,  as 
saith  Ysaye  the  prophete,  here  savoringe  schal  be  ful  o( 
bitter    galle  ;    and    touchyng   of    al    here    body   schal    be 
y-covered   with  fuyr  tliat  never  schal  quenche,  and   with 
worines  that  never  schuln  deyen,  as  God  saith  by  the  mouth 
of  Ysaie.     And  for  al  so  inoche  as  thay  schuln  nought  went 
that  thay  may  deyeii  for  peyne,  and    by  here  deth  lie  frc 
peyne,  that  may  thay  understonde  in  the  word  of  Job,  t'lut 
saith,  ther  as  is  the  schadow  of  deth.    Certes  a  schadow  hath 
the  likenesse  of  the  thing  of  which  it  is  a  schadow,  but  the 
schadowe  is  nought  the  same  tiling  of  wliiche  it  is  schad- 
owe  ; lj  right  so  fareth  the  peyne  of  helle  ;  it  is  lik  deth,  for 
the  horrible  anguisshe  ;  and  why  ?  for  it  peyneth  hem  ever 
as  though  men  scholden  deye  anon  ;   but  certes  thay  schul 
not  deye.     For  as  saith  seint  Gregory,  to  wrecchid  cayti'a 
schal  be  give  detli  withoute  deth,  and  ende  withouten  end 
and  defaute  withouten  faylinge  ;  for  here  deth  schal  alwa., 
lyven,   and  here  ende  schal  evermore  bygynne,  and  here 
defaute  schal  not  fayle.     And  therfor  saith  seint  Johaii  the 
Evaungelist,  thay  schul  folwe  deth,  and  thay  schuln  nought 
fynde  him,  and  thay  schul  desire  to  deyen,  and  deth  schal 
flee  fro  hem.     And  eek  Job  saith,  that  in  helle  is  noon  ordre 
of  rule.     And  al  be  it  that  God  hath  creat  al  thing  in  right 
ordre.  and  no  thing  withoute  ordre,  but  alle  thinges  ben 
ordeynedand  noumbred,  yitnatheles  thay  that  ben  dampned 
been  nought  in  ordre,  ne  holden  non  ordre.     For  the  eorthe 
schal  bear  hein  no  fruyt  (for,  as  the  prophete  David  saith, 
God  schal  destroye  the  fruyt  of  the  eorthe,  as  for  hem)  ;    ne 
watir  schal  give   hem    no    moysture,   ne  the  aier  non  re- 
fivisching,  ne  fuyr  no  light.     For  as  seith  seint  Basile,  The 
brennyng  of  the  fuyr  of  this  world  schal  God  give  in  helle 
to  hem  that  ben  dampriyd,  but  the  iight  and  the  clernesse 
sch;-,l  be  geve  in  lievene  to  his  children  ;  right  as  the  goode 
man  geve  flesch  to  his  children,  and  bones  to  his  houndes. 
And  for  thay  schul  have  noon  hope  to  eschape.  saith  seint 
Job  atte  laste,   that  ther  schal  horrour  and   grisly  drede 
duelle  withouten  ende.     Horrour  is  alway  drede  of  harm 
that  is  to  come,  and  this  drede  schal  ever  duelle  in  tho 
hertes  of  hem  that  ben  dampnyd.     And  therfore  han  thay 
lorn   al  here  h'^  .<  for  vij.   causes.     First    for  God  that  is 
here  jugge  sch.  .  be  withoute  mercy  to  hem,  ne  thay  may 

9  her  ti;?n.  These  words,  which  seem  to  frive  bettor  sense,  are  adopted 
from  Tyrwhitt  ;  the  Harl.  Ms.  reads  and  therfore  ful  of  teeris. 

'"'  Imt  srhtiflowe . . .  schadowe.  Uiuiited  in  the  ila.il.  Ms.,  ;;ud  reuiuruii  f roi 
Uie  Lausd.  Ma. 


6i4  T1IE  CANTERBURY  TALKS. 


not  please  him,  ne  noon  of  his  halwes;  ne  they  may  give 
no  tiling  for  here  raurisoun  ;  ne  thay  have  no  voice  to 
gpeke  to  him  ;  ne  thay  may  not  fit  fro  peyne  ;  rie  thay 
have  no  goodnes  in  hem  that  thay  may  schewe  to  delivers 
hem  fro  peyne.  And  therfore  saith  Salomon,  the  wikked 
man  deyeth.and  whan  he  iy  deed,  he  schal  have  noon  hope 
to  eschape  fro  peyne.  Who  so  wolde  thanne  wel  under- 
stonde  these  peynes,  bythynke  him  wel  that  he  hath 
deserved  thilke  peynes  for  his  syrines,  certes  he  schulde 
have  more  talent  to  sikyn  and  to  wepe,  than  for  to  synge 
or  pieyu.  For  as  that  Salomon  saith,  Who  so  that  had 
the  science  to  knowe  the  peynes  that  ben  esiablid  and 
ordeynt  for  syrine  he  wolde  make  sorwe.  Thilke  science, 
as  saith  seirit  Austyn,  maketh  a  man  to  wayment  in  his 
herte. 

The  fourthe  poynt,  that  oughte  make  a  man  have  con- 
tricioun,  is  the  sorwful  remembraunce  of  the  good  that  he 
hath  left  to  doon  heer  in  eorthe,  and  eek  the  good  that  he 
hath  lorn.  Sothly  the  goode  werkes  that  he  hath  left, 
eyther  thay  been  the  goode  werkes  that  he  wrought  er  he 
fel  into  deedly  synne,  or  elles  thai  ben  the  goode  werkes 
that  he  wroughte  whil  he  lay  in  synne.  Sothly  the  goode 
werkes  that  he  dede  er  he  fel  into  syrine  ben  amortised,  and 
astoneyed,  and  dullid  by  of'te  synriynge  ;  that  othere  goode 
werkes  that  he  wrought  whil  he  lay  in  dedly  synne,  been 
outrely  deede,  as  to  the  lif  perdurable  in  heven. 

Thanne  thilke  goode  werkes  that  ben  mortified  by  ofte 
gynnyng,  whiche  good  werkes  he  dede  whiles  he  was  in 
charite,  ne  mow  never  quyken  ap-ayn  withouten  vorray 
penitence.  And  thereof  saith  God  by  the  mouth  of  Ezechiel 
that  if  the  rightful  man  retourne  agayn  fro  his  rightwisnesse 
arid  werke  wikkednesse,  schal  he  live?  nay;  for  alie  the 
goode  werkes  that  he  harh  wrought,  ne  schuln  never  be  in 
remembraunce,  for  he  schal  dye  in  his  synne.  And  upon 
thilke  chapitre  saith  seint  Gregory  thus,  that  we-  schuln 
understonde  this  principally,  that  whan  we  doon  dedly 
synne,  it  is  for  nought  thanne  to  reherse  or  to  drawe  into 
memorie  the  goode  werkes  that  we  han  wrought  biforn  \ 
for  certis  in  the  werkyng  of  the  dedly  synne,  ther  is  no  trust 
to  no  good  werkes  that  we  han  don  biforne  this  tyme  \  that 
is  to  say,  as  for  to  have  therby  the  lif  perdurable  in  heven. 
But  natheles,  the  goode  werkes  quiken  agayn  arid  comen 
again,  and  helpen  and  availen  to  have  the  lif  perdurable 
in  heven  whan  we  han  contricioun  j  but  sothly  the  goode 
werkes  that  men  doon  whil  that  thai  beri  in  deedly  synne, 
for  as  moche  as  thay  were  doon  in  dedly  synne,  thay  may 
never  quyken.  For  certes,  thing  that  never  hadde  lif,  may 


THE  PERSONES  TALE. 


never  quyken  ;  u  and  al  be  it  so  that  thay  availen  not  to 
liave  the  lit'  perdurable,  yit  avaylen  thay  to  abridging  of 
the  peyne  of  helle,  or  elles  to  gete  temporal  riches,  or  elles 
that  God  wol  the  rather  eiilumyne  and  lightene  the  hertot 
the  synful  man  to  have  repentaunce  ;  andeek  thay  availen 
for  to  usen  a  man  to  do  goode  werkes,  that  the  feend  liave 
the  lasse  power  of  his  soule.  And  thus  the  curteys  Lord 
Jhesu  Crist  ne  wolde  nought  no  good  werk  be  lost,  for  ia 
somwhat  it  schal  availe.  But  for  als  moche  as  the  goode 
werkes  that  men  don  whil  thay  ben  in  good  lif  ben  amor- 
tised by  synne  folwyng,  and  eek  sith  that  alle  the  g^de 
werkes  that  men  doon  whil  thay  ben  in  dedly  synne,  been 
outrely  deede  as  for  to  have  the  lif  perdurable,  wel  may 
that  man,  that  no  goode  werkes  w^rkith,  syngethilke  newe 
freisch  song,  <Tay  tout  perdu  moun  temps  et  moun  labour, 
For  certis  synne  byreveth  a  man  bothe  goodnes  of  nature, 
and  eek  tlie  goodnes  of  grace.  For  sothly  the  grace  of  the 
holy  gost  fareth  lik  fyre  that  may  not  ben  ydel ;  for  fuyr 
as  it  forletith  his  werkyng,  and  faileth  anoon,  and  right  so 
when  the  grace  faileth  anoon  as  it  forleteth  his  werkyrig, 
than  les  th  the  synful  man  the  goodnes  of  glorie,  thatoonly 
is  byhight  to  goode  men  that  laboureri  and  werken.  Wel 
may  lie  be  sory  thanne,  that  oweth  al  his  lif  to  God,  as 
longe  as  he  hath  ly  ved,  and  eek  as  longe  as  he  schal  ly  ve, 
that  110  goodnes  ne  hath  to  paye  with  his  dette  to  God,  to 
whom  he  oweth  al  his  lyf ;  for  trusteth  wel  he  schal  give 
accompt,  as  saith  seint  Bernard,  of  alle  the  goodes  that  han 
be  geven  him  in  hi-^  present  lif,  and  how  he  hath  hern  dis- 
pendid,  riat  so  moche  that  ther  schal  not  perische  an  heer 
of  his  heed,  ne  a  moment  of  an  hour  ne  schal  not  perische 
of  his  tyme,  that  he  ne  schal  give  of  it  a  rekenyng. 

The  fifte  maner  of  contricioun,  that  moeveth  a  man 
therto,  is  the  remembraunce  of  the  passioun  that  oure  Lord 
Jhesu  Crist  suflred  for  us  and  for  ouresynnes.  For  as  seith 
seint  Bernard,  whil  that  I  ly  ve,  I  schal  have  remembraunce 
of  the  passioun  that  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  sulTred  for  us  in 
preching,  his  werynesse  in  travayling.  his  temptaciouii 
whan  h^  fastid,  his  longe  wakinges  whan  he  prayde,  his 
teeres  whan  he  wepte  for  pite  of  good  peple  ;  the  wo  and 
the  sch am  and  the  filthe  that  men  saide  to  him  ;  of  the 
foul  spittyng  that  men  spitten.  on  his  face  ;  of  the  bulTettis 
that  men  gaf  him  ;  of  the  foule  mowes  and  of  the  reproves 
that  men  to  him  saiden  ;  of  the  nayleswith  whiche  he  was 

11  For  certvfs . .  .  quyken.  These  words,  not  in  the  Harl.  Als.,  are  added 
from  the  Lansd.  Ms.  These  omissions  are  so  frequent  th:it  I  shall  not  again 
point  them  out.  English  jirose  manuscripts  are  always  much  more  incorrect 
than  the  verse,  from  causes  which  it  would  not  bo  ditiicult  to  exDlain. 


516  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


nayled  to  the  cros  ;  and  of  al  the  remeiiaunt  of  his  pas- 
sioun, that  he  suflred  for  my  synnes  and  no  thing  for  his 
gilt.  And  ye  schal  uiiderstonde  that  in  niannes  synne  is 
every  maner  ordre  of  ordiiiaunce  turned  up-so-doun.  For 
it  is  soth,  that  God,  and  resoun,  and  sensualite,  and  tlie 
body  of  man,  be  so  ordeyned,  that  everich  uf  thise  foure 
schulde  have  lordschipe  over  that  other,  as  thus  :  God 
fediulde  have  lordschipe  over  resoun,  and  resoun  over  sen- 
fcualitc'-,  and  sensualite  over  the  body  of  man.  But  sothly 
whan  man  synneth,  al  this  ordre,  or  ordinaunce,  is  torned 
up-so-doaii ;'  and  thanne,  for  as  moche  as  the  resoun  of  a 
man  ne  AVO!  not  be  subject  lie  obeissant  to  God,  that  is  his 
lord  by  right,  therfore  lesith  it  the  lordschipe  that  it  schulde 
have  over  sensualite,  and  eek  over  the  body  of  man  ;  and 
•why  ?  for  sensualite  rebellith  thans  agayns  resoun  ;  and 
by  that  way  lesith  resoun  the  lordschipe  over  sensualite, 
and  over  the  body.  For  right  as  resoun  is  rebel  to  God, 
right  so  is  bothe  sensualite  rebel  to  resoun  and  the  body 
also.  And  certis  this  disordynaunce,  and  this  rebellioun, 
oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  bought  upon  his  precious  body  ful 
deere  ;  and  herkeneth  in  which  wise.  For  as  moche  as 
resoun  is  rebel  to  God,  therfore  is  man  worthy  to  have 
sorwe,  and  to  be  deed.  This  suffred  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist 
for  man,  after  that  he  was  bytraysed  of  his  disciple,  and 
distreyned  and  bounde,  so  that  the  blood  brast  out  at  every 
nayl  of  his  hondes,  as  saith  seint  Austyn.  And  forther- 
over,  for  as  mochil  as  resoun  of  man  wol  nought  daurite 
sensualite  when  it  may,  therfore  is  man  worthy  to  have 
schame  ',  and  this  suffered  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  for  man, 
whan  thay  spitten  in  his  face.  And  fortherover  thanne, 
for  as  moche  as  the  caytif  body  of  man  is  rebelle  bothe  to 
resoun  and  to  sensualite,  therfore  it  is  worthy  the  deth  ; 
and  this  suffred  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  for  us  upon  the 
croys,  wher  as  ther  was  no  part  of  his  body  fre,  withoute 
gret  peyne  and  bitter  passioun.  Arid  al  this  suffred  oure 
Lord  Jhesu  Crist  that  never  forfeted  ;  and  thus  sayd  he.  tc 
mochil  am  1  streyned,  for  the  things  that  I  never  deservyd  ; 
and  to  moche  defouled  for  schendschip  that  man  is  worthy 
to  have.  And  therfore  may  the  synful  man  wel  seye,  as 
saith  seint  Bernard,  accursed  be  the  bitternesse  of  my 
Bynne,  for  which  ther  moste  be  suffered  so  moche  bitter- 
nesse. For  certis,  after  the  dyvers  discordaurices  of  oure 
wickednes  was  the  passioun  of  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist 
ordeyned  in  divers  thinges  ;  as  thus.  Certis  sinful 
marines  soule  is  bytraysid  of  the  devel,  by  coveitise  of 
•temporal  prosperiti'  ;  and  scorned  by  disceyt.  whan  he 
cheseth  ileischly  delytes  ;  aud  yit  is  it  tormentij  j^y  im- 


TIIE  PEItSONES  TALE. 


pacierice  of  adversite,  and  byspit  by  servage  and  sub- 
Jeccioun  of  synne,  and  atte  last  it  is  slayn  finally.  For  thin- 
discordaunceof  synful  man,  was  Jhesu  Crist  first  bytraised  ; 
and  after  was  he  bounde,  that  com  for  to  uribynderi  us  fro 
pynne  and  of  peyne.  Than  was  he  scorned,  that  oonly 
srhulde  be  honoured  in  alle  thing  of  alle  thinges.  Than 
\vas  his  visage,  that  oughte  be  desired  to  be  say  of  al  man- 
kynde  (in  which  visage  aungels  desiren  to  loke)  vileynusly 
byspit.  Thanne  was  lie  scorned  1>J  that  nothing  had  agilt  ; 
and  fynally,  thanne  was  he  crucified  and  slayn.  Thanne  was 
accomplised  the  word  of  Ysaye,  He  was  woundid  for  oure 
mysdede,  and  defouled  by  oure  felonyes.  Now  sith  Jhesu 
Crist  tok  upon  him  thilke  peyne  of  alle  oure  wikkedneu 
inochil  oughte  synful  men  wepe  and  bywayle,  that  for  his 
synnes  schulde  Goddes  sone  of  hevene  al  this  endure. 

The  sixte  thing  that  oughte  to  moeve  a  man  to  con- 
tricioun,is  the  hope  of  thre  thinges,  that  is  to  sayn,  for- 
geveries  of  synne,  and  the  gifte  of  grace  wel  for  to  do,  and 
the  glorie  of  heven,  with  which  God  schal  guerdoun  man 
for  his  goode  deedis.  And  for  als  moche  as  Jhesu  Crist 
geveth  us  these  giftes  of  his  largesse  and  of  his  soverayn 
bountt',  therfore  is  he  cleped,  Jhesus  Nazarenus  rex  Jud(e- 
orum.  Jhesus  is  for  to  say,  saveour  of  savacioun,  of  whom 
me  schal  hope  to  have  forgevenes  of  synnes,  which  that  is 
proprely  savacioun  of  synnes.  And  therfore  seyde  the 
!iungel  to  Joseph,  thow  schalt  clepe  his  name  Jhesus,  that 
schal  save  his  poeple  of  here  synnes.  And  herof  sailh  seint 
Petir,  ther  is  noon  other  name  under  heven,  that  is  geve  to 
any  man,  by  which  a  man  may  be  savyd,  but  oonly  Jhesus. 
Nazarenus  is  as  moche  to  say  as  florisching,  in  which  a  man 
schal  hope,  that  he  that  geveth  him  remission!!  of  synnes, 
schal  give  him  grace  wel  to  doo.  For  in  the  flour  is  hope 
of  fruyt  in  tyme  comynge.  and  in  forgivenes  hope  of  grace 
wel  to  do.  I  was  at  the  dore  of  thin  herte,  saith  Jhesus, 
and  cleped  for  to  entre  ;  he  that  openith  to  me,  schal  have 
forgevenes  of  synne;  I  wol  entre  into  him  by  my  grace, 
and  soupe  with  him  by  the  goode  workes  that  he  schal 
di>c>n,  whiche  werkes  ben  the  foode  of  God,  and  he  schal 
soupe  with  me  by  the  grete  joye  that  I  schal  give  him. 
Thus  schal  man  hope,  that  for  his  werkis  of  penaunceGod 
schal  give  him  his  regne,  as  he  bihetith  him  in  the  Gospel. 

Now  schal  man  underst'mde,  in  what  maner  schal  be  his 
contricioun.  I  say,  it  schal  l>e  universal  and  total,  that  is  to 
say.  a  man  schal  be  verray  repentaunt  for  alle  his  synnes  that 
he  hath  doonindelyt  of  his  thought,  fordelit  isful  perilous. 
For  ther  ben  tuo  maners  (  f  consentyng,  that  oon  of  hem  is 
»  scorned.  Tyiwlmt  rcailt)  tcounjid  with  the  i.aned.  Ms. 


518  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

cleped  consentyng  of  affecdoun,  whan  a  man  is  inoeved  to 
•  synne,  and  delitith  him  longe  for  to  thinkeon  that  synne, 
and  his  resoun  aparcey  veth  wel  that  it  is  synne  agayns  the 
lawe  of  God,  and  yit  his  resoun  refreyiieth  not  his  foule 
delit  or  talent,  though  he  seth  wel  apertly,  that  it  is  agenst 
the  reverence  of  God  ;  although  his  resoun  conseiite  not  to 
do  the  synne  in  dede,  yit  sayn  some  doctours,  delyt  that 
duellith  longe  it  is  ful  perilous,  al  be  it  never  so  lite.  And 
also  a  man  schulde  sorwe,  namely  for  al  that  he  hath  de- 
sired agayn  the  lawe  of  God,  with  parfyt  consentynge  of 
his  hert  and  of  his  resoun.  for  therof  is  no  doute,  that  it  is 
dedly  synne  in  consentyng  ;  for  certis  ther  is  no  dedly 
synne,  but  that  it  nas  first  in  mannes  thought,  and  after 
that  in  his  delit,  arid  so  forth  into  consentyng,  and  into 
dede.  Wherfore  say  I,  that  many  men  repente  hem  never 
of  suche  thoughtes  and  delites,  ne  never  schrive  hem  of  it, 
but  oonly  of  the  dede  of  grete  synnes  outward.  Wherfore 
I  say,  that  suche  wickid  delitis  and  wickid  thoughtes  ben 
subtile  bigilours  of  hem  that  schuln  be  dampned.  More- 
over man  oughte  to  sor\ve  for  his  wicked  wordes,  as  wel  as 
his  wikked  dedes  ;  for  certis  the  repentaunce  of  a  singuler 
synne,  and  nought  repente  of  alle  his  other  synnes,  or  elles 
repente  him  of  alle  his  othere  synnes,  and  not  of  a  singuler 
synne,  may  nought  availe.  For  certis  God  Almighty  is 
al  good,  and  therfore  he  forge veth  al,  orelles  right  nought. 
And  hereof  saith  seint  Augustin,  I  wot  certeynly,  that  God 
is  enemy  to  every  synnere ;  and  how  thanne  he  that  ob- 
servith  oon  synne,  schalhehave  remissioun  of  the  remenant 
of  his  other  synnes  ?  IN  ay.  And  fortherover,  contricioun 
schulde  be  wounder  sorwful  and  anguisschous,  and  ther- 
fore givith  him  God  pleinlyhis  mercy.  And  therfore  whan 
my  soule  was  anguissheous  withinne  me,  I  hadde  remem- 
braunce  of  God,  that  my  prayer  mighte  come  to  him.  And 
fortherover,  contricioun  moste  be  continuelly,  and  that  a 
man  have  stedefast  purpos  to  schryve  him,  and  for  To 
amende  him  of  his  lyf.  For  sothly,  whil  contricioun  lastith, 
man  may  ever  hope  of  forgevenes.  And  of  this  cometh 
hate  of  synne,  that  destroyeth  synne  bothe  in  himself,  and 
eek  in  other  folk  at  his  power.  Arid  therfore  saith  David, 
ye  that  loven  God,  hatith  wikkidnesse  ;  for  trustith  wel  for 
to  love  God,  is  for  to  love  that  he  loveth,  and  hate  that  he 
hateth. 

The  laste  thing  that  a  man  schuld  uiiderstonde  in  con- 
tricioun is  this,  wherol'  availith  contricioun  ?  1  say,  that 
Rom  tyme  contricioun  delivereth  man  fro  synne  ;  of  which 
that  David  saith,  I  say,  quod  David,  I  purposid  ferrnely  to 
fer:hryve  me,  and  thou,  Lord,  relesedist  my  synne.  And 


TUE  PERSONES  TALE.  519 

right  so  as  contricioun  availith  uat  withoute  sad  purpos 
of  schrift  if  man  have  oportunite,  right,  so  litil  worth  is 
schrifte  or  satisfaccioun  withoute  contricioun.  And,  more- 
over, contricioun  destruyeth  the  prisoun  of  helle,  and 
makith  wayk  and  feble  the  strengthes  of  the  develes,  and 
restorith  the  gift  of  the  holy  gost,  and  of  alle  vertues,  and 
it  clensith  the  soule  of  syrines,  and  delivereth  the  soule  fro 
tlie  peynes  of  helle,  and  fro  thecompanye  of  the  devel,  and 
fro  the  sei  vage  of  syiirie,  and  restorith  it  to  alle  goodes 
espiritueles,  into  the  companye  arid  cominunioun  of  holy 
chirche.  And  fortherover,  it  makith  him  that  sonityme  was 
sone  of  ire,  to  be  the  sorie  of  grace  ;  and  alle  these  thinges 
he  provith  by  holy  writte.  And  therfore  he  that  wil  sette 
his  herte  to  these  thinges,  he  were  ful  wys.  For  sothly  he 
scholde  not  thanne  in  al  his  lyf  have  corrage  to  synne,  but 
given  his  body  and  al  his  herte  to  the  service  of  Jhesu 
Crist,  and  therof  do  him  homage.  For  certis  oure  swete 
Lord  Jhesu  Crist  hath  sparid  us  sodebonerly  in  oure  folyes, 
that  if  he  ue  hadde  pite  of  marines  soule,  sory  songe  mighte 
we  alle  synge. 

Explicit  prima  pars  penitentice  ;  et  incipit  secunda  pars 
ejusdem. 

The  secounde  partye  of  penitence  is  confessioun,  that 
is,  signe  of  contricioun.  Now  schul  ye  understonde  what 
is  confessioun  ;  and  whethir  it  oughte  needes  be  doon  or 
noon  ;  and  whiche  thinges  ben  converiable  to  verray  con- 
fessioun. First  schalt  tliou  understonde,  that  confessioun 
is  verrey  schewyng  of  synnes  to  the  prest  ;  this  is  to  sayn 
verray,  for  he  moot  schewe  him  of  alle  the  coridiciouns  that 
ben  longynge  to  his  synne,  as  ferforth  as  he  can  ;  al  mot 
be  sayd,  and  nought  excused,  ne  hyd,  ne  forwrappid  ;  and 
nought  avaunte  him  of  his  goode  werkis. 

And  forthermore  it  is  necessary  to  understonde  whens 
that  synnes  springe,  and  how  thay  encreseri,  and  whiche 
they  ben. 

Of  the  springing  of  synnes  as  seint  Poul  saith,  in  this 
wise,  that  right  as  by  a  man  synne  entred  first  into  this 
world,  and  thorugh  that  synne  deth,  right  so  thilke  deth 
entered  into  alle  men  that  synneden  ;  and  this  man  wa^ 
Adam,  by  whom  that  synne  entred  into  this  world,  when 
he  brak  the  comaundement  of  God.  And  therfore  h« 
that  first  was  so  mighty,  that  he  schuld  not  have  deyed. 
bicam  siththe  suche  on  that  he  moste  needis  deye.  whethir 
ne  wolde  or  noon,  and  al  his  progenie  that  is  in  this  world, 
that  in  thilke  manner  synuedeu. 


320  THE  CANTERBURY  TAL£S. 


Loke  tftat  in  the  estate  of  innocence,  whan  Adam  and 
Ifive  nakid  were  in  paraclys,  and  no  thing  schaiue  ne  had- 
den  of  h^r  riakidnesse.  how  that  the  serpent,  that  was  most 
wily  of  alle  other  bestis  that  (rod  hadde  niakid,  sayde  to 
the  womman,  why  comauridid  God  to  yow  ye  schulde 
nought  ete  of  every  tree  in  Paradys? 

The  womman  answerde,  of  the  fruyt,  quod  she,  of  the 
trees  in  Paradys  we  feede  us,  but  sothly  of  the  fruyt  of  the 
tre  that  is  in  the  myddil  of  Paradis  God  forbad  us  for  to 
eterr.  ne  not  touche  it,  lest  peraventure  we  schulde  deye. 

Tue  serpent  sayde  to  the  womman,  nay,  nay,  ye  schal 
not  drede  of  deth,  for  sothe  God  wot,  that  what  "day  ye  ete 
therof  youre  eyen  schal  open  and  ye  schul  ben  as  goddis, 
knowing  good  and  harm. 

The  womman  saugh  the  tree  was  good  to  feedyng,  and 
fair  to  the  eyen,  and  delitable  to  sight  ;  she  tok  of  the 
fruyt  of  the  tree  and  eet  it,  and  gaf  to  hir  housbond,  and 
heeetit;  and-anoon  the  eyen  of  hem  bothe  openeden ; 
and  whan  that  they  knowe  that  thay  were  naked,  thay 
sowde  of  fige  leves  in  maner  of  breches,  to  hiden  here 
membirs. 

Here  may  ye  see,  that  dedly  synne  hath  first  suggestioun 
of  the  feend,  as  scheweth  here  by  the  rioddir  ;  and  aftir- 
ward  the  delit  of  the  fieische,  as  scheweth  here  by  Eva  ; 
and  after  that  the  corisentyng  of  resoun,  as  scheweth  by 
Adam.  For  trustith  wel,  though  so  were  that  the  feende 
temptid  oon,  Eve,  that  is  to  sayn  the  fleissch,  and  the 
fleissch  hadde  delit  in  the  beaute  of  the  fruyt  defendid, 
yit  certes  til  that  resoun,  that  is  to  say,  Adam,  corisentid 
io  the  etyng  of  the  fruyt,  yit  stood  he  in  t.hastaat  of  inno- 
cence. Of  thilk  Adam  took  we  thilke  synne  original  ;  for 
of  him  flesschly  descendit  be  we  alle  and  engendrit  of  vile 
and  corrupt  matiere ;  and  whan  the  soule  is  put  in  oure 
body,  right  anoon  is  contract  original  synne  ;  and  that, 
that  was.  erst  but  oonly  peyne  of  concupiscence,  is  after- 
ward bcthe  peyne  and  synne  ;  and  therfore  be  we  alle 
isborn' sones  of  wraththe,  and  of  dampnacioun  perdurable, 
if  it  riere  baptisme  that  we  receyveri,  which  bynyineth  us 
the  culpe. 

But  forsothe  the  peyne  duellith  with  us  as  to  tempta- 
cioun,  which  peyne  highte  concupiscence.  And  this  con- 
cupiscence, whan  it  is  wrongfully  disposed  or  ordeyntd  in 
man,  it  makith  him  to  coveyte,  by  covetise  of  (leissch, 
fleisschly  synne,  by  sight  of  his  eygheri,  as  to  erthely 
thinges,  and  eek  coveityse  of  heighnesse,  as  by  pride  oi 
herte. 

Now  as  to  speke  of  the  firste  coveitise,  that  is  coiicupis- 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  521 

rence  after  the  lawe  of  oure  membris,  that  weren  lawfully 
inaked,  and  by  rightful  juggement  of  God,  J  say,  for  as 
iiioche  as  a  man  is  nought  obeissant  to  God,  tliat  is  his 
-Lord,  therfore  is  fleissche  to  him  disobeisant  thurgh  con- 
cupiscence, which  that  yit  is  cleped  norisshing  of  synrie, 
and  occasion  of  synrie.  Therefore,  al  the  while  that  a 
man  hath  in  him  the  peyne  of  concupiscence,  it  is  impos- 
sible but  he  be  tempted  somtyme  and  nioeved  in  his  fleisch 
to  synne.  And  this  may  not  faile,  as  longe  as  he  liveth. 
It  may  wel  wexe  feble  and  faille  by  vertu  of  baptisme,  and 
by  the  grace  of  God  thorugh  penitence  ;  but  fully  schal  it 
never  quenche,  that  he  schal  somtyme  be  moeved  in  him- 
self, but  if  he  were  al  refreydit  by  siknes,  or  by  malefice  of 
sorserye,  or  colde  drinkes. 

For  what  saith  seint  Poul  ?  the  fleissh  coveitith  agayn 
the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  agayn  the  fleisch ;  thay  ben  so 
eontrarie  aTid  so  stryven,  that  a  man  may  nought  alwey 
do  as  he  wolde.  The  same  seint  Poul,  after  his  penaunce, 
in  watir  and  in  lond  ,  in  watir  by  night  and  by  day,  in 
gret  peril,  and  in  gret  peyne  ,  in  lond  and  in  famyne  and 
in  thurst,  and  colde  and  clothles,  oones  almost  stoned  al 
to  the  deth ;  yit  saide  he,  alias!  I  caytif  man,  who  schal 
delyvere  me  fro  the  prisoun  of  my  caytif  body  ? 

And  seint  Jerom,  whan  he  long  tyme  had  woned  in 
desert,  here  wlier  as  he  hadde  no  compaignye  but  of  wiide 
bestes  ;  wher  as  he  hadde  no  mete  but  herbs,  and  water  to 
his  drink,  ne  non  bed  but  the  nakid  erthe,  for  which  his 
fleisch  was  as  blak  as  an  Ethiopen  for  hete,  and  neigh  de- 
stroyed for  cold  ,  yit  sayde  he,  that  the  brennyng  of  lec- 
chery  boy  lid  in  al  his  body. 

Wherfore  I  wot  wel  sicurly  that  thay  be  desceyved  that 
say,  thay  ben  not  temptid  in  here  body.  Witnesse  on  seint 
Jame  the  thapostil,  that  saith,  that  every  wight  is  tempted 
in  his  oughne  concupiscence  ;  that  is  to  sayn,  that  everych 
of  us  hath  inatere  and  occasioun  to  be  tempted  of  the  nor- 
ischyng  of  synne  that  is  in  his  body.  And  therfore  seint 
Julian  the  Evaungelist  saith,  if  that  we  sayn  we  be  with- 
oute  synne,  we  deceyve  ouresilf,  and  trouthe  is  nought 
in  us. 

IS'ow  schal  ye  understonde  in  what  maner  that  synne 
waxith  and  encresceth  in  a  man.  The  first  thing  is  tiiilke 
norisching  of  synne,  of  which  I  spak  biforn,  thilke  con- 
cupiscence ;  and  after  that  cometh  the  stiggestioun  l3  of 
tin;  devel,  that  is  to  sayn,  the  develes  bely,  with  which  he 
bloweth  in  man  the  fuyr  of  fleisschly  concupiscence  ;  and 
after  that  a  man  bythink  him  whethir  lie  wol  don  it  o) 
13  sugyestkiun.  The  lUrls.  Ms.  read  sulytcciou*. 


522  THE  CANTERBURY  TALE&. 

non,  thilke  thing  to  ^vhich  he  is  tempted.  And  thanne  if 
that  a  man  withstoride  and  wayve  the  firste  enticynges  of 
his  fleisshe,  and  of  the  feend,  it  is  no  synrie,  arid  if  so  be  he 
do  not  so,  tharine  feeleth  he  anoon  a  flame  of  delit,  and 
thanne  it  is  good  to  be  war  and  kepe  him  wel,  or  ellis  lie 
wil  falle  anoon  into  consentyng  of  synrie,  and  thanne  wol 
he  do  it,  if  he  may  have  tyme,  and  space,  and  place.  And 
of  this  matere  saith  Moyses  by  the  devel,  in  this  marier; 
the  feend  saith,  I  wol  chace  and  pursewe  the  man  by 
wickid  suggestiouns,  and  I  wil  hent  him  by  moevyng  and 
steryng  of  synne,  and  I  wil  parte  my  prise,  or  rny  pray,  by 
deliberaeioun,  and  my  lust  schal  be  accomplish  in  delit ;  I 
wil  drawe  my  sword  in  corisentynge  (for  certes,  right  as  a 
swerd  departith  a  thing  in  tuo  parties,  right  so  consent- 
ynge  departith  God  fro  man)  ;  and  thanne  wol  I  sle  him 
with  my  bond  in  dede  of  synne.  Thus  saith  the  feend  ; 
for  certis,  thanne  is  a  man  al  deed  in  soule  ;  and  thus  is 
synne  accomplisid,  by  temptacioun,  by  delit,  and  by  con- 
sentyng ;  and  thanne  is  the  synne  cleped  actuel. 

For  sothe  synne  is  in  two  maneres,  outher  it  is  venial, 
or  dedly  synne.  Sothly,  whan  man  lovith  any  creature 
more  than  Jhesu  Crist  oure  creatour,  thanne  it  is  dedly 
synne  ;  and  venial  synne  is,  if  a  man  love  Jhesu  Crist  lesse 
than  him  oughte.  For  sothe  the  dede  of  this  venial  synne 
is  ful  perilous,  for  it  arnenisith  the  love  that  men  schulde 
have  to  (rod,  more  and  more.  And  therfore  if  a  man 
charge  more  himself  with  many  suehe  venial  synnes, 
certes,  but  if  so  be  that  he  som  tyme  discharge  him  of  hem 
by  schrifte,  thay  may  ful  lightly  amenise  in  him  al  the 
love  that  he  hath  to  Jhesu  Crist  ;  and  in  this  wise  skip- 
pith  venial  into  dedly  synne.  For  certes,  the  more  that  a 
man  chargith  his  sould  with  veniel  synnes,  the  more  is  he 
enclyned  to  falle  in  deedly  synne.  And  therfore  let  us 
nought  be  negligent  t<  d°scharge  us  of  venial  synnes.  For 
the  proverbe  saith,  th  t  many  smale  makith  a  gret.  And 
herken  this  erisarnple  ;  a  grecit  wawe  of  the  see  cometh 
som  tyme  with  so  gret  a  violence,  that  it  drenchith  the 
schip  ;  and  the  same  harm  doon  som  tyme  smale  droppis 
of  watir,  that  entrith  thurgh  a  litil  creves  into  the  thur- 
rok,  and  into  the  bothum  of  a  schip,  if  men  be  so  neg- 
ligent, that  thay  descharge  hit  nought  by  tyme.  And 
therfore,  although  ther  be  difference  betueen  these  tuo 
causes  of  drenching,  algates  the  schip  is  dreynt.  Right  so 
farith  it  som  tyme  of  deediy  synne,  and  of  arioyous  venial 
synnes,  whan  thay  niultiplicn  in  a  man  so  gretly,  that 
t'hilke  worldly  thynges  that  he  loveth,  thurgh  which  he 
ninir-'th  vcnially,  is  as  gret  in  his  herte  as  the  love  of  God, 


THE  PEHSONES  TALE 


or  more.  And  therfore  the  love  of  every  thins:  that  is  not 
byset  in  God,  ne  doon  principally  for  Goddes  sake,  al- 
though a  man  love  it  lasse  than  God,  yit  is  it  venial 
synne  ;  and  deedly  synne,  whan  the  love  of  eny  tiling 
wflyeth  in  the  hert  of  a  man,  as  moche  as  the  love  of  God, 
or  more.  Dedly  synne  is,  as  saith  saint  Austyn,  whan 
man  torneth  his  hert  from  God,  which  that  is  verray  sove- 
rayn  bounie,  that  may  not  chu.un.ge  and  flitte,  and  give 
his  herte  to  a  thing  that  may  chaurige  and  flitte  ;  and 
certes,  that  is  every  thing  save  God  of  heven.  For  sothe, 
if  that  a  man  gieve  his  love,  the  which  that  he  owith  to 
God  with  al  his  herte,  unto  a  creature,  certes,  as  moche  of 
love  af  he  giveth  to  thilke  creature,  so  moche  he  reveth 
fro  God,  and  therfore  doth  he  synne,  for  be  that  is  dettour 
to  God,  ne  yeldeth  not  to  God  al  his  dette,  that  is  to  sayn, 
al  the  love  of  his  hert. 

Now  sitUthe  man  uriderstondith  generally  which  is 
venial  synne,  thanne  is  it  covenable  to  telle  specially  of 
synnes,  whiche  that  many  a  man  peraventuro  ne  demith 
hem  no  synnes,  and  schryveth  him  not  of  the  some  thinges, 
and  yet  natheles  thay  ben  synnes;  and,  sothly,  as  clerkes 
•writen ;  this  is  to  say,  at  every  tyme  that  man  etith  or 
drinkith  more  than  suffiseth  to  the  sustienaunce  of  his 
body,  in  certeyii  he  doth  synne  ;  and  eek  whan  he  spekith 
more  than  it  needith,  he  dotli  synne  ;  and  eek  v;han  he 
herkeneth  nought  benignely  the  pleyrit  of  the  pore  ;  eek 
whan  he  is  in  hele  of  body,  and  wil  not  faste  whan  other 
folk  fasten,  withouten  cause  resoriable  ;  eek  whan  he 
slepith  more  than  rieedith,  or  whan  he  cometh  by  thilk 
enchesoun  to  late  to  holy  chirche,  or  to  other  werkes  of 
charite  ;  eke  whan  he  useth  his  wyf  withoute  soverayn 
desir  of  engendrure,  to  thonour  of  God,  and  for  thentent 
to  yelde  his  wyf  the  dette  of  his  body;  eek  whan  he  wll 
not  visite  the  sike,  and  the  prisoner,  if  he  may  ;  eek  if  he 
love  wyf,  or  child,  or  other  worldly  thing,  more  than 
resoun  requireth  ;  eek  if  he  flatere  or  blaundisshe  more 
than  him  oughte  for  eny  necessite  ;  eek  if  a  man  men  use 
or  withdrawe  the  almesse  of  the  povere  ;  eek  if  he  appa- 
raylith  his  mete  more  deliciously  than  it  nedith  or  ete  ir  to 
hastily  by  licouresnes  ;  eek  if  he  talke  of  vanitees  ar 
chirche,  or  at  Goddis  service,  or  that  he  be  a  talkere  of 
ydil  wordes  of  vanite  or  of  vilonye,  for  he  sc'n.al  yeldr  <>f 
hem  acourit  at  the  day  of  doome  ;  eek  whan  lie  heetith  or 
assureth  to  do  thinges  that  he  may  nought  performe  ;  eek 
whan  that  by  lightlies  or  foly  he  myssaith  or  scorneth  his 
neighebor  ;  eek  whan  he  hath  eny  wicked  suspeccioun  of 
tiling,  that  he  wot  of  it  no  sothfastnesse :  these  thinges  anq 


524  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


mo  withoute  nombre  ben  synnes,  as  saith  seint  Austyn. 
Now  schal  men  understonde,  that  al  be  it  so  that  noon 
erthely  man  may  eschiewe  alle  venial  synnes,  yit  may  he 
refreyne  hem  by  the  brennyng  love  that  he  hath  to  oure 
Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  an<l  by  prayeie..-,  and  by  confessioun, 
and  other  goode  werkes,  so  that  it  schal  but  litel  greve. 
For,  as  saith  seint  Austyn,  gif  a  man  love  God  in  such  a 
maner,  that  al  that  ever  he  doth  is  in  the  love  of  God,  or 
for  the  love  of  God  varraily,  for  he  brenneth  in  the  love  of 
God,  loke  how  moche  that  a  drope  of  watir,  that  fallith  in 
a  furneys  ful  of  fuyr,  anrioyeth  or  greveth  the  brenning  of 
the  fire,  so  moche  in  like  maner  annoyeth  or  greveth  a 
venial  synne  unto  a  man  that  is  perfyt  in  the  love  of  Jhesu 
Crist.  Men  may  also  refreyne  venial  synne,  by  receyvyng 
of  the  precious  body  of  Jhesu  Crist ;  by  receyvyng  eek  of 
holy  water  ;  by  almes  dede ;  by  general  confessioun  of 
Confltenr  at  masse,  and  at  prime,  and  at  complyii ;  and 
by  blessing  of  bisschops  and  of  prestes,  and  by  other  goodu 
werkis. 

Now  it  is  bihovely  thing  to  telle  whiche  ben  dedly 
synnes,  thot  is  to  sayn,  chive teyns  of  synnes  ;  for  as  moche 
as  alle  thay  renne  in  oon  loos,  but  in  divers  maners.  Now 
ben  thay  cleped  chiveteyns,  for  als  moche  as  thay  ben  chief 
and  springers  of  all  other  synnes.  The  i-oote  of  these  seven 
synnes  thanne  is  pride,  the  general  synne  and  roote  of  alle 
harmes.  For  of  this  root  spriiigen  general  braunches  ;  as 
ire,  envye,  accidie  or  sleuthe,  avarice  or  coveitise  (to  com- 
mune understondynge),  glotonye,  and  leccherie :  and 
evericli  of  these  synnes  hath  his  braunches  and  his  twigges, 
as  schal  be  declarid  in  here  chapitres  folwinge. 


De  Superbia. 

And  though  so  be,  that  no  man  can  telle  utterly  the  nom- 
bre of  the  twigges,  and  of  the  harm  that  cometh  of  pride, 
yit  wol  I  sohewe  a  party  of  hem,  as  ye  schul  understonde. 
Ther  is  inobedience,  avauntyng,  ypocrisye,  despit,  arra- 
gaunce,  impudence,  swellyng  of  hert,  insolence,  elacioun, 
Jmpacience,  strif,  contumacie,  presumpcion,  irreverence, 
pertinacie,  veinglorie,  and  many  another  twigge  that  I  can 
not  telle  ne  declare.  Inobedient  is  he  that  disobeieth  for  des- 
pyt  to  the  comaundementz  of  God,  and  to  his  sovereigns,  and 
to  his  gostly  fader.  Avauntour,  is  he  that  bosteth  of  the 
harm  or  of  the  bount(-.  that  he  hath  don.  Ypoerisy,  is 
that  hydeth  toschewe  him  such  as  lie  is,  and  scheweth  him 
«uch  as  he  not  is.  Despitous,  is  he  that  hath  desdayn  of 


THE  P£RSONES  TALE. 


his  neighebour,  that  is  to  say,  of  his  even  Cristen,  or  hath 
despit  to  dooii  that  him  ought  to  doon.  Arragaunt,  is  he 
that  thinketh  that  he  hath  thilke  bountees  in  him,  that  he 
hath  not,  or  weneth  that  he  schulde  have  hem  by  desert, 
or  elles  he  demeth  that  he  is  that  he  is  not.  Impudent,  is 
he  that  for  his  pride  hath  no  scham^  of  his  synne.  Swell- 
yng  of  hert,  is  whan  a  man  rejoysith  him  of  harm  that  he 
hath  don.  Insolent,  is  he  that  dispisith  in  his  juggement 
alle  other  folk,  as  to  regard  of  his  valieu,  and  of  his  cori- 
nyng,  and  of  his  spekyng,  and  of  his  beryng.  Elacioun,  is 
whan  he  may  never  suifre  to  have  maister  ne  felawe.  1m- 
pacient,  is  he  that  wil  not  ben  i-taught  rie  undernome  of 
his  vices,  and  by  stryf  werreth  trouthe  witynge,  and  de- 
fendeth  his  folie.  Contimax,  is  he  that  thorugh  his  indig- 
naciouii  is  agains  everych  auctorite  or  power  of  hem  that 
been  his  soverayns.  Presuinpeioun,  is  whan  a  man  under- 
takith  ami  emprisith  that  him  oughte  not  to  do,  or  elles 
that  he  may  not  doo,  and  that  is  cleped  surquidrye.  Ir- 
reverence, is  whan  men  doon  pot  honour  ther  as  hem 
ought  to  doon,  and  wayteth  to  be  reverenced.  Pertinacie, 
is  whan  man  defendith  his  folye,  and  trusteth  to  moche  to 
his  owne  witte.  Vainglorie,  is  for  to  have  pomp,  and  delit 
in  temporal  heighnes,  and  glorifie  him  in  worldly  estaat. 
Jangelyng,  is  whan  a  man  spekith  to  moche  biforn  folk, 
and  clappith  as  a  mille,  and  taketh  no  keep  what  he  saith. 

And  yit  is  ther  a  prive  spice  of  pride,  that  wayteth  first 
to  be  saluet  er  he  saliewe.  al  be  he  lasse  worth  than  that 
other  is,  parad  venture  ;  and  eek  wayteth  or  desireth  to 
sitte  above  him,  or  to  go  above  him  in  the  way,  or  kisse 
the  pax,  or  ben  encensed,  or  gon  to  the  offringe  biforii  his 
neighebore,  and  suche  semblable  thinges,  agains  his  duete 
peraventure,  but  that  he  hath  his  herte  and  his  entente 
in  such  a  proud  desir  to  be  magnified  and  honoured  toforn 
the  poeple. 

Now  ben  there  tuo  maners  of  pride  ;  that  oon  is  heigh- 
nes, withinne  the  hert  of  a  man,  and  that  other  is  with- 
oute.  Of  which  sothly  these  forsayde  thinges,  and  mo  than 
I  have  said,  aperteynen  to  pride  that  is  in  the  hert  of  ;. 
man  ;  and  that  other  spices  of  pride  ben  withoute  ;  but 
natheles,  that  oon  of  thise  spices  of  pride  is  signe  of  tluir 
other,  right  as  the  gay  levesselle  at  the  taverne  is  signe  of 
wyn  that  is  in  the  celer.  And  this  is  in  many  thinges  ;  as 
in  speche  and  oontienaunce,  and  in  outrageous  array  of 
clothing.  For  certis,  if  ther  hadde  be  no  synne  in  cloth- 
ing, Crist  wolde  not  so  soone  have  notid  and  spoke  of  the 
clothing  of  thilke  riche  man  in  the  gospel.  And  seint  (  ir-'g- 
)rie  saith,  that  precious  clothing  is  coupabk>  for  d>.nhe  of 


526  THE  CANTERBUEY  TALES. 


it,  and  for  his  schortnes,14  and  for  his  straungenes  and  dis- 
gisines,  and  for  the  superfluite,  or  for  the  inordinat  skant- 
nes  of  it  ;  alias  !  many  man  may  sen  as  in  oure  dayes,  the 
synful  costlewe  array  of  clothing,  and  namely  in  to  moche 
superfluite,  or  elles  in  to  disordinat  skantnes. 

As  to  the  firste  synne  in  superfluite  of  clothing,  which 
that  makid  is  so  dere,  to  harm  of  the  people,  not  oonly  the 
cost  of  embrowdyng,  the  guyse,  endentyng  or  barryrig, 
swandyng,  palyng,  or  bendyng,15  and  semblable  wast  of 
cloth  in  vanite  ;  and  ther  is  also  costlewe  furring  in  here 
gownes,  so  mochil  pounsyng  of  chiseles  to  make  holes,  so 
moche  daggyng  of  scheris,  for  with  the  superfluite  in 
lengthe  of  the  forsaide  gownes,  traylinge  in  the  donge  and 
in  the  myre,  on  hors  and  eek  on  foote,  as  wel  of  man  as 
of  womman,  that  al  thilke  traylyng  is  verraily  (as  in  ef- 
fect) wasted,  consumed,  thredbare,  and  rotyn  with  donge, 
rather  than  it  is  geven  to  the  pore,  to  gret  damage  of  the 
forsaide  pore  folk,  and  that  in  sondry  wise  ;  this  is  to  sain, 
the  more  that  cloth  is  wastid,  the  more  most  it  coste  to 
the  poeple  for  the  scarsenes ;  and  forthermore,  if  it  so  be 
that  thay  wolde  give  suche  pounsed  and  daggid  clothing 
to  the  pore  folk,  it  is  not  convenient  to  were  to  the  pore 
folk,  rie  sufflsaunt  to  beete  here  necessite,  to  kepe  hem  fro 
the  desperance  of  the  firmament.  Upon  that  other  syde, 
to  speke  of  the  horrible  disordinat  scantnes  of  clothing,  as 
ben  these  cuttid  sloppis  or  anslets,16  that  thurgh  her  schort- 
nes ne  covereth  not  the  schamful  ruembre  of  man,  to 
wickid  entent ;  alas !  som  men  of  hem  schewen  the  schap 
and  the  boce  of  the  horrible  swollen  membres,  that  semeth 
like  to  the  maledies  of  hirnia,  in  the  wrapping  of  here  hose, 
and  eek  the  buttokes  of  hem,  that  faren  as  it  were  the 
hinder  part  of  a  sche  ape  in  the  fulle  of  the  moone.  And 
moreover  the  wrecchid  swollen  membres  that  thay  schewe 
thurgh  desgysyng,  in  departyng  of  here  hoses  in  whyt  and 
reed,  seemith  that  half  the  schameful  prive  membres  were 
flayn.  Arid  if  it  so  be  that  thay  departe  here  hosen  in 
other  colours,  as  is  whit  and  bliew,  or  whit  and  blak,  or 
blak  and  reed,  and  so  forth  ;  thanne  semith  it,  as  by  vari- 
aunce  of  colour,  that  half  the  party  of  his  privy  membris 
ben  corrupt  by  the  fuyr  of  seint  Antony,  or  by  cancre,  or 
other  such  meschauiice.  And  yit  of  the  hynder  partye  of 
here  buttokes  it  is  ful  horrible  for  to  see,  for  certis  in  that 
partie  of  here  body  ther  as  thay  purgen  her  stynkyng  or- 

14  schortnes.    So  the  Harl.  Ms.  :  Tyrwhitt  reads  sqf'/nesse. 

15  the  guyse  endentyny  . . .  or  bending.    In  Tyrwhitt  this   passage  stands 
thus,  the  disyuisiny,  undenting,  or    barring,  ounding,  paling,  winding,  or 
tending. 

K  anslets-    Tyrwhitt  reads  with  the  Lansd.  Ms,  hanselinet. 


THE  FEKSONES  TALE.  527 


dure,  that  foule  party  schewe  tliay  to  the  poeple  proudly 
in  despyt  of  honestc,  which  honeste  that  Jhesu  Crist  arid 
his  frendes  observeden  to  schewen  in  his  lif.  Now  as  of  the 
outrageous  array  of  wommen,  God  wot,  that  though  the 
Hsage  of  some  of  hem  seine  ful  chaste  and  debonaire,  yit 
tiotifye  thay,  in  here  array  of  attyre,  licorousnesse  and 
pride.  1  say  not  that  honeste  in  clothing  of  man  or  wom- 
Inan  is  uncovenable,  but  certis  the  superfluity  or  disordinat 
skantnes  of  clothing  is  reprevable.  Also  the  synne  of  here 
ornament,  or  of  apparaile,  as  in  thinges  that  aperteynen. 
to  rydyng,  as  in  to  many  delicat  horses,  that  ben  holden 
for  delytj  that  thay  ben  so  faire,  fat,  arid  eostlewe ;  and 
also  in  many  a  vicious  knave,  maynteried  bycause  of  hem  ; 
and  in  to  curious  harnoys,  as  in  sadelis,  and  bridJis,  crop- 
ours,  and  peytrelle,  covered  with  precious  clothing,  and 
riche  barres  and  plates  of  gold  and  of  silver.  For  whiche 
God  sairh  by  Zacharie  the  prophete,  I  wol  confounde  the 
ryders  of  suche  horsis.  These  folk  take  litil  reward  of  the 
ryding  of  Goddes  sone  of  heven,  and  of  his  harneys,  whan 
he  rode  upon  an  asse,  and  hadde  noon  other  harneys  but 
the  clothing  of  his  disciples  newe.  Ne  rede  I  not  that 
ever  he  rode  on  other  beest.  I  speke  this  for  the  synne 
of  Kiiperfluiti',  and  nought  for  resonable  honeste,  whan 
resoun  it  requirith.  And  fortherover,  certes  pride  is  gretly 
notifieci  in  hoklyng  of  gret  meynr,  whan  t  ay  ben  of  litil 
profyt  or  of  right  no  profyt,  and  namely  whan  that 
meyne  is  felenous  arid  daungerous  to  the  poeple  by  hardy- 
nesse  of  lordschipe,  or  by  way  of  offices  ;  for  certes,  suche 
lordes  selle  thanne  here  lordschipe  to  the  devel  of  helle, 
wlian  thay  susteyne  the  wickidnes  of  here  rneync.  Or  elles, 
whan  these  folk  of  lowe  degre,  as  is  thilke  that  holden  hos- 
tilries,  and  susteyne  the  thefte  of  here  hostilers,  and  that 
is  in  many  maneres  of  disceytes  ;  thilke  maner  of  folk  ben 
the  llyes  that  fohven  the  hony,  or  elles  the  houndea  thai, 
folwen  the  carayn.  Suche  forsayde  folk  strangelen  spirit- 
uelly  here  lordschipes  ;  for  whiche  thus  saith  David  the 
prophete,  Wikked  deth  moot  come  upon  suche  lordschipes, 
and  God  geve  that  thay  moot  descende  into  belle  adouri ; 
for  in  here  houses  ben  iniquities  and  schrewed nesses,  and 
not  God  of  heven.  And  certes,  but  thay  do  amendement, 
right  so  as  Jacob  gaf  his  benisoun  to  Laban  by  the  service 
of  God,  and  to  Pharao  by  the  service  of  Joseph,  right  so 
God  wil  geve  his  malisoun  to  suche  lordschipes  as  sus- 
teynen  the  wikkednes  of  her  servauntes,  but  thay  come  to 
amendement. 

Pride  of  the  table  apperith  ful  ofte  ;    for  certes  richo 
inen    beu   cleped  to  feste,   and  pore  folk    ben    put   away 


528  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


and  rebuked  ;  also  in  excesse  of  divers  metis  and  drinkis, 
and  namely  of  suche  maner  of  bake  metis  and  dische 
metis  brennyng  of  wilde  fuyr,  and  peynted  arid  castelid 
with  papire,  and  semblable  wast,  so  that  it  is  abusioun  for 
to  thinke.  And  eek  in  greet  preciousnes  of  vessel,  and  in 
curiousnesse  of  vessel,  and  of  inynstralcye,  by  the  whiche 
a  man  is  stired  the  more  to  delitis  of  luxurie,  if  so  be 
that  thay  sette  her  herte  the  lasse  upon  oure  Lord 
Jhesu  Crist,  certeyn  it  is  a  synne ;  and  certeinly  the 
delites  mighte  be  so  grete  in  this  caas,  that  men  mighte 
lightly  falle  by  hem  into  dedly  synne.  The  espices  that 
sourdren  of  pride,  sothely  whan  thay  sourdren  of  mal- 
ice y-magined  and  avised,  aforn  cast,  or  elles  of  usage, 
ben  dedly  syrines,  it  is  no  doute.  And  whan  thay  sour- 
den  by  frelte  unavysed  sodeinly,  and  sodeirily  withdrawe 
agayri,  al  be  thay  grevous  synries,  I  gesse  thay  ben  not 
dediy.  Now  mig'hte  men  axe,  wherof  pride  sourdeth  and 
springeth.  I  say  som  tyme  it  springith  of  the  goodes 
of  nature,  and  som  tyme  of  the  goodes  of  fortune,  and 
som  tyme  of  the  goodes  of  grace.  Certes  the  goodes  of 
nature  stonden  outlier  in  goodes  of  body,  or  goodes  of 
soule.  Certis,  the  goodes  of  the  body  ben  hele  of  body, 
strengthe,  deliverance,17  beaute,  gentrie,  fraunchise ;  the 
goodes  of  nature  of  the  soule  be-»  good  wit,  scharp  un- 
derstondyng,  subtil  engyn  vertu  naturel,  good  memorie  ; 
goodes  of  fortune  been  richesses.  highe  degrees  of  lord- 
schipes,  and  preisyng  of  the  poeple ;  goodes  of  grace  been 
science,  power  to  suffre  spirituel  travaile,  benignite,  ver- 
tuous  contemplacioun,  withstondyng  of  temptacioun,  and 
semblable  thinges  ;  of  whiche  forsayde  goodes,  certes  it 
is  a  ful  gret  foly,  a  man  to  pryden  him  in  any  of  hem 
alle.  Now  as  for  to  speke  of  goodes  of  nature,  God  wot 
that  som  tyme  we  have  hem  in  nature  as  moche  to  oure 
damage  as  to  oure  profit.  As  for  to  speke  of  hele  of  body, 
certes  it  passith  ful  lightly,  and  eek  it  is  ful  of te  enchesoun 
of  the  sikne.sse  of  the  soule.  For  God  wot,  the  fleissch  is  a 
gret  enemy  to  the  soule  ;  and  therfore  the  more  that  oure 
body  is  hool,  the  more  be  we  in  peril  to  falle.  Eke  for  to 
pride  him  in  his  strengthe  of  body,  it  is  a  foly  ;  for  certes 
the  fleisch  coveytith  again  the  spirit  ;  and  ay  the  more 
strong  that  the  fleisch  is,  the  sorier  may  the  soule  be  ;  and 
over  al,  this  strengthe  of  body  and  worldly  hardy nes 
causetb  ful  ofte  many  man  peril  and  meschaunce.  Eek 
for  to  pride  him  of  his  gentrie  is  ful  gret  folye  ;  for  often 
tyme  the  gentrie  of  the  body  bynymeth  the  gentery  of  the 
soule  ;  and  we  ben  alle  of  oon  fader  and  of  oon  moder  't 
>'  deliverance.  Tyrwbitt  reads  tielivi-rnesse. 


T1IE  PERSONES  TALE.  529 


and  alie  we  ben  of  oon  nature  rotcn  and  corrupt,  bothe 
riche  and  pore.  For  sothe  oon  inarier  gentry  is  for  to 
prayse,  that  apparailleth  mannes  corrage  with  veitues  and 
juoralitees,  and  inakith  him  Cristes  child  ;  for  trustith 
wel,  over  what  man  that  synne  hath  maistry,  he  is  a  verray 
cherl  to  synne. 

Now  ben  ther  general  signes  of  gentilesse  ;  as  schewyng 
of  vice  and  rybaudrie  and  servage  of  synne,  in  word,  in 
werk  and  contenaunce,  and  usinge  vertu,  curtesie,  and 
elennes,  and  to  be  liberal,  that  is  to  sayn,  large  by  inesure  ; 
for  thilke  that  passith  inesure  is  foly  and  synne.  And  an- 
other is  to  remembre  him  of  bounte  that  he  of  other  folk 
hath  resceyved.  Another  is  to  be  benigne  to  his  goode 
subjectis  ;  wherfore,  as  saith  Senek,  ther  is  nothing  more 
covenable  to  a  man  of  heigh  estate,  than  debonairte  and 
pite  ;  and  therfore  thise  flies  that  men  clepen  beet,  whan 
thay  nuike  liere  king,  thay  chesen  oon  that  hath  no  pricke 
wherwitli  he  may  stynge.  Another  is,  a  man  to  have  a 
noble  herte  and  a  diligent,  to  atteigne  to  hihe  vertuous 
thinges.  Certis,  also  who  that  pridetii  him  in  the  goodes 
of  grace,  is  eek  an  outrageous  fool  ;  for  thilke  giftes  of 
grace  that  schulde  have  i-torned  him  to  goodnes  and  medi- 
cyne,  torneth  him  to  venym  and  to  confusioun,  as  saith  seint ' 
Gregory.  Certis  also,  who  that  pridith  him  in  the  goodes 
of  fortune,  he  is  a  ful  gret  fool  ;  for  som  tynie  is  a  man  a 
gret  lord  by  the  morwe,  that  is  a  caytif  and  a  wrecche  er  it 
be  night :  and  som  tyme  the  riches  of  a  man  is  cause  of 
his  deth  :  and  som  tyme  the  delice  of  a  man  is  cause  of  his 
grevous  maledye,  thurgh  which  he  deieth.  Certis,  the 
commendacioun  of  the  poeple  is  som  tyme  ful  fals  and  ful 
brutil  for  to  truste  ;  this  day  thay  prayse,  to  morwe  thay 
blame.  God  woot,  desir  to  have  commendacioun  of  the 
poeple  hath  causid  deth  of  many  a  busy  man. 

Remedium  contra  superbiam. 

Now  sith  so  is,  that  ye  han  herd  and  understonde  what 
it-  pride,  and  whiche  ben  the  spices  of  it,  and  whens  pride 
sourdeth  and  springeth  ;  now  schul  ye  understonde  which  is 
the  remedy  agayns  pride  ;  and  that  is  humilitc  or  meekenes, 
that  is  a  vertue  thurgh  which  a  man  hath  verray  knowleche 
of  himself,  and  holdith  of  himself  no  pride,  ne  pris,  ne  deynte, 
as  in  regard  of  his  desertes,  considering  evermore  his  frelte. 
Now  ben  ther  thre  maners  of  humilitc  ;  ashumilite  in  hert, 
another  is  humilitc  in  his  mouth,  the  thridde  in  workes. 
The  humilite  in  his  herte  is  in  foure  maners  ;  that  oon  is, 
whan  a  man  holdith  himself  not  worth  biforn  God  of  heven  j 


530  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

another  is,  whan  he  despiseth  no  man  ;  the  thrid  is,  whan 
he  ue  rekkith  nought  though  a  man  holde  him  nought 
worth  ;  the  ferthe  is,  whan  he  holdeth  him  nought  sory  of 
his  humiliacioun.  Also  the  humilite  of  mouth  is  in  foure 
t hinges  ;  in  attempre  speche  ;  in  humbles  of  speche ;  and 
whan  he  byknowith  with  his  owne  mouth,  that  he  is  such  as 
him  therikith  that  he  is  in  herte  ;  another  is,  whan  hepraisith 
the  bounte  of  another  man  and  nothing  therof  amenusith. 
Humilite  eek  in  werk  is  in  foure  inaneres.  The  first  is,  whan 
he  puttith  other  men  tofore  him  ;  thesecounde  is,  to  chese 
the  lowest  place  over  al ;  the  thrid  is,  gladly  to  assente  to 
good  counseil ;  the  ferthe  is,  gladly  k>  stonde  to  thaward  of 
his  sovereyns,  or  of  him  that  is  in  heigher  degre  ;  certeyn 
this  is  a  gret  werk  of  humilite. 

De  inmdia. 

After  pride  now  wol  I  speke  of  the  foule  synne  of  envye, 
which  that  is,  as  by  the  word  of  the  philosophre,  sorwe  of 
other  mennes  prosperite'  ;  and  after  the  word  of  seint 
Austyn,  it  is  sorwe  of  other  mennes  wele,  and  joye  of  other 
mennes  harm.  This  foule  synne  is  platly  agayns  the  Holy 
Gost.  Al  be  it  so,  that  every  synne  is  agayn  the  Holy 
Gost,  yit  natheles,  for  as  moche  as  bounte  aperteyneth 
proprely  to  the  Holy  Gost,  and  envye  proprely  is  malice, 
therfore  is  it  proprely  agayns  the  bounte  of  the  Holy  Gost. 
Now  hath  malice  tuo  spices,  that  is  to  sayn,  hardnes  of 
hert  in  wickednes,  or  ellis  the  fleisch  of  man  is  so  blynd, 
that  he  considereth  not  that  he  is  in  synne,  or  rekketh  not 
that  he  is  in  synne  ;  which  is  the  hardnes  of  the  devyl. 
That  other  spice  of  envye  is,  whan  a  man  warieth  trouthe, 
and  wot  that  it  is  trouthe,  and  eek  whan  he  warieth  the 
grace  that  God  hath  geve  to  his  neighebor  ;  and  al  this  is 
by  envye.  Certes  than  is  envye  the  worste  synne  that  is  ; 
for  sothely  alle  other  synnes  ben  somtyme  oonly  agains 
oon  special  vertu  ;  but  certes  envye  is  agayns  alle  vartues 
and  agayns  al  goodnes  ;  for  it  is  sory  of  alle  the  boun tees' 
of  his  neighebor  ;  arid  in  this  maner  it  is  divers  from  all  the 
synries  ;  for  wel  unnethe  is  ther  any  synne  that  it  ne  hath 
som  dent  in  itself,  sauf  oonly  envye,  that  ever  hath  in  itself 
anguisch  and  sorwe.  The  spices  of  envye  ben  these.  Ther 
is  first  sorwe  of  other  mennes  goodnes  and  of  her  prosperite  ; 
and  prosperite  is  kyndely  matier  of  joye  ;  thanne  is  envye 
a  synne  agayns  kynde.  The  secounde  spice  of  envye  is 
joye  of  other  mennes  harm  ;  and  that  is  proprely  lik  to  the 
devyl,  that  ever  rejoyeth  him  of  mennes  harm.  Of  these 
tuo  spices  cometh  bacbityng  ;  arid  this  synne  of  bakbytyng 


TLLE  PERSON  ES  TALx*  531 


or  detraccioun  hath  certein  spices,  as  thus:  som  man 
praiseth  his  neighebor  by  a  wickid  entent,  for  he  inakith 
alvvay  a  wickid  knotte  atte  last  ende  ;  aiway  he  makith  a 
but  at  the  last  ende,  that  is  thing  of  more  blame,  than 
worth  is  al  the  praysing.  The  secounde  spice  is.  that  if  a 
man  be  good,  and  doth  or  saith  a  thing  to  good  entent,  the 
bacbiter  wol  tome  al  thilke  goodnes  up-so-doun  to  his 
jchrewed  eritent.  The  thridde  is  to  amenuse  the  bounte  of 
his  neighebor.  The  ferthe  spiece  of  bakbytyng  is  this,  that 
if  men  speke  goodnes  of  a  man,  than  wil  the  bakbiter  seyn, 
"  Parfay,  yit  buch  a  man  is  bet  than  he  ;  "  in  dispraysynge 
of  him  that  men  praise.  The  fifte  spice  is  this,  for  to  con- 
sente  gladly  and  horken  gladly  to  the  harm  that  men  speke 
of  other  folk.  The  s-ynne  ;s  ful  gret,  and  ay  encresith  at'ier 
thentt  nt  of  the  bakbiier.  After  bakbyiyng  cometh 
grucching  or  murmuracioun,  and  som  tyme  it  springith  of 
impacience  18  agayris  God,  and  somtyme  agains  man. 
Agayns  God  is  it  whan  a  man  grucchith  agayn  the  pyne  of 
helle,  or  agayns  poverte,  or  of  losse  of  catel,  or  agayns  reyn 
or  tempest,  or  elles  grucchith  that  schrewes  han  prosperite, 
or  ellis  that  goode  men  hari  adversite ;  and  alle  these 
thinges  schulde  men  suffre  paciently,  for  thay  come  by 
rightful  juggement  and  ordinaunce  of  God.  Som  tyme 
cometh  grucching  of  avarice,  as  Judas  grucched  agens  the 
Maudeleyn,  whan  sche  anoyrited  the  lied  of  oure  Lord  Jhesu 
Crist  with  hir  precious  oynement.  This  maner  murmur  is 
swieh  as  whan  man  grucchith  of  goodnes  that  himself  doth, 
or  that  other  folk  doon  of  here  owne  catel.  Som  Jyme 
cometh  murmur  of  pride,  xs  whan  Symon  the  Fiicirise 
grucchid  agayn  the  Maudeleyn,  whan  sche  approchid  to 
Jhesu  Crist  and  wepte  at  his  feet  for  hir  synnes  ;  and  sou;- 
tyme  it  sourdith  of  envye,  whan  men  discoveren  a  mannes 
harm  that  was  prive,  or  bereth  him  on  hond  thing  that  is 
fals.  Murmuryng  eek  is  ofte  among  servauntz,  that 
grucchen  whan  here  soverayns  bidden  hem  to  doon  leeful 
thinges  ',  and  for  as  moche  as  thay  dar  nought  openly 
withstoude  the  comaundementz  of  here  soverayns,  yit  wol 
thay  sayn  harm  and  grucche  and  murmure  prively  for 
verray  despit  ;  whiche  wordes  men  clepe  the  develes  Pater 
noster,  though  so  be  that  the  devel  hadde  never  Pater 
noster,  but  that  lewed  men  calle  it  so.  Som  tyme  it  cometh 
of  ire  of  prive  hate,  that  norischeth  rancour  in  herte,  as 
after-ward  1  schal  declare.  Thanne  cometh  eek  bitternes 
of  herte,  thorugh  which  bitternesse  every  good  deede  of 
his  neighebore  semeth  to  him  bitter  and  unsavery.  But 
fchanne  cometh  discord  that  unbyndeth  tille  maner  of 
ce.  The  Hail.  JUs.  ix-ads  insapieia»—~  *. 


532  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


frendschipe.  Thanne  cometh  scornynge  of  his  neighebor,  al 
do  he  never  so  wel.  Thanne  cometh  accusyng,  as  whan 
man  seketh  occasioun  to  annoyen  his  neighebore,  which 
that  is  lik  the  craft  of  the  devel,  that  waytith  both  night 
and  day  to  accuse  us  alle.  Thanne  cometh  maligriite, 
thurgh  which  a  man  annoyeth  his  neighebor  prively  if  he 
may,  arid  if  he  may  not,  algate  his  wikkid  wille  schal 
nought  wante,  as  for  to  brenrie  his  hous  prively,  or  em- 
poysone  him,  or  sleeii  his  bestis  prively,  and  semblabla 
thinges. 

Remedium  contra  inmdiam. 

Now  wol  1  speke  of  the  remedies  agayns  thise  foule 
things  and  this  foule  synne  of  envye.  First  is  the  love  of 
God  principal,  and  lovynge  of  his  neighebor  as  himself ; 
sothely  that  oon  lie  may  nought  ben  withoute  that  other. 
And  truste  wel,  that  in  the  name  of  thy  neighebour  thou 
schalt  understonde  the  name  of  thy  brother  ;  for  certes 
alle  we  have  oon  fader  fleisschly,  and  oon  mooder,  that  is 
to  sain,  Adam  and  Eva  ;  and  eek  oon  fader  spirituel,  and 
that  is  God  of  heven.  Thy  neighebor  artow  holden  for  to 
love,  arid  wilne  him  al  godenesse,  and  therfore  saith  God. 
love  thy  neighebor  as  thyself;  that  is  to  sayn,  bothe  to 
savacioun  of  lif  and  of  soule.  And  moreover  thou  schalt 
love  him  in  word,  and  in  benigne  amonestyng  and  chas- 
tising, and  comforte  him  in  his  annoyes,  and  praye  for  him 
with  al  thin  herte.  And  in  dede  thou  schalt  love  him  in 
such  wise  that  thou  schalt  do  to  him  in  charite,  as  thou 
woldist  it  were  doon  to  thin  oughrie  persone  ;  and  therfore 
thou  schalt  doon  him  noon  harme  in  wikked  word,  ne 
damage  him  in  his  body,  ne  in  his  catel,  rie  in  his  soule,  by 
wicked  entising  of  ensample.  Thou  schalt  nought  desireri 
his  wif,  rie  noone  of  his  thinges.  Understonde  eek  that  in 
the  name  of  neighebor  is  comprehendid  his  enemy  ;  certes 
man  schal  love  his  enemy  by  the  comaundement  of  God, 
and  sothly  thy  frend  schalt  thou  love  in  God.  I  sayde 
thin  enemy  schaltow  love  for  Goddes  sake,  by  his  comaunde- 
ment ;  for  if  it  were  resoun  that  man  schulde  hate  his 
enemy,  for  sothe  God  nolde  nought  recey ve  us  to  his  love 
that  ben  his  enemyes.  Agains  thre  rr.aner  of  wronges  that 
his  enemy  doth  to  him,  he  schal  do  thre  things,  as  thus  : 
agayns  hate  and  rancour  of  herte,  he  schal  love  him  in 
herte  ;  agayns  chydyng  and  wicked  wordes,  he  schal  pray 
*or  his  eriemye  ;  agains  wikked  dede  of  his  enemy,  he  schal 
vioon  him  bounte.  For  Crist  saith,  loveth  youre  enemyes, 
and  uraveth  for  hem  that  speke  you  harme,  and  V>r  J-eir 


THE  J'/MSOXES   TALE. 


533 


that  yow  ohacen  and  pursewen  ;.and  doth  bounte  to  hem 
that  yow  haten.  Lo,  thus  coniaundeth  us  oure  Lord 
Jliesu  Crist  to  do  to  oure  enemyes  ;  for  sothely  nature 
driveth  us  to  love  oure  frendes,  and  parfay  oure  eneniyes 
han  more  neede  to  love  than  oure  frendes.  For  sothely  to 
hem  that  more  neede  have,  certes  to  hem  schul  men  do 
goodnes.  And  certis  in  thilkedede  have  we  reuieinbrauiiee 
of  the  love  of  Jhesu  Crist  that  dyed  for  his  enemys.  Am', 
in  als  moche  as  thilke  love  is  more  grevous  to  parforme,  so 
moche  is  the  more  gret  remedye  and  meryt.  and  therefore 
the  lovyrig  of  oure  enemy  hath  corifoundid  the  venym  of  the 
devel  ;  for  right  as  the  devel  is  confoundid  by  humility-, 
right  so  is  he  woundid  to  the  deth  by  love  of  oure  enemy, 
Certes  thanne  is  love  the  medicine  that  castith  out  tiuj 
venym  of  envye  fro  mannes  hert.  The  spices  of  this  p,u-t 
schulu  be  more  largely  declared  in  here  chapitres  folwynge. 

De  ira. 

After  envye  wol  I  descry ven  the  synne  of  ire  ;  for  sothely 
who  so  hath  envye  upon  his  neighebor,  anoon  he  wol 
comunly  fynde  him  a  matiere  of  wraththein  word  or  in  ded'e 
agayns  him  to  whom  he  hath  envie.  And  as  wel  cometh  ire 
of  pride  as  of  envye,  for  sothly  he  that  is  proud  or  envyous 
is  lightly  wroth.  This  synne  of  ire,  after  the  descryvyrig  of 
seint  Austyn,  is  wikked  wille  to  ben  avengid  by  word  or  by 
dede.  Ire,  after  the  philosofer,  is  the  fervent  blood  of  man 
i-quiked  in  his  hert,  thurgh  which  he  wolde  harm  to  him 
that  him  hatith  ;  for  certes  the  hert  of  man  by  eschawfyng 
and  moevyng  of  his  blood  waxith  so  trouble,  that  he  is  out 
of  allejaggements  of  resoun.  But  ye  schal  understonde  that 
ire  is  in  tuo  maneres,  that  oon  of  hem  is  good,  that  other  id 
wikked.  The  goode  ire  is  by  jalousy  of  goodnesse,  thurgh 
which  a  man  is  wroth  with  wikkidnes  arid  agayn  wikked- 
nesse.  And  therforesaith  a  wise  man, that  ire  is  bet  than  play. 
This  ire  is  with  deboneirte,  and  it  is  wroth  without  bitter- 
lies  ;  not  wroth  with  the  man,  but  wroth  with  the  mysdedes 
of  the  man  ;  as  saith  the  prophet  David,  Iras'-.tniini,  et 
nolite  pcccare,  etc.  Now  undei-stonde  that  wikked  ire  is  in 
tuo  maners,  that  is  to  sayn,  sodeyn  ire  or  hast  it'  ire  withoute 
avysement  and  consenting  of  resoun  ;  the  menynge  and 
the  sentence  of  this  is,  that  the  resoun  of  a  man  ne  con- 
Bentith  riot  to  thilke  sodein  ire,  and  thanne  is  it  venial. 
Another  ire  is  ful  wicked,  that  cometh  of  felony  of  herte, 
avysed  and  cast  biforn,  with  wickid  wille  to  do  vengeaunce, 
and  therto  his  resoun  consentith  ;  and  sothely  this  is 
deedly  synne.  This  ire  is  so  displesaunt  to  God,  that  it 


524  THE  CANTEEBUEY  TALES. 


troublith  his  hous,  and-  chaceth  the  holy  Gost  out  of 
marines  soule,  andwas  tith  and  destroyeth  that  liknes  of  God, 
that  is  to  say,  the  vertu  that  is  in  inaunes  soule,  and  put 
in  him  the  likenes  of  the  devel,  and  bynymeth  the  man  fro 
God  that  is  his  rightful  lord.  This  ire  is  a  ful  greet  plesaunce 
to  the  devel,  for  it  is  the  develes  fornays  that  is  eschaufid 
with  the  fuyr  of  helle.  For  certes  right  so  as  fuyr  is  more 
mighty  to  destroye  erthely  thinges,  than  eny  other  element, 
right  so  ire  is  mighty  to  destroye  alle  spirituel  thinges. 
Loke  how  that  fuyr  of  smale  gledis,  that  ben  almost  dede 
under  /isshen,  woldenquiken  agayn  whan  thay  ben  touched 
with  brimstone,  right  so  ire  wol  evermore  quyken  agayn 
whan  it  is  touched  by  pride  that  is  covered  in  mannes 
herte.  For  certes  fuyr  may  nought  come  out  of  no  thing, 
but  if  it  were  first  in  the  same  thinge  naturelly  ;  as  fuyr  is 
drawe  out  of  flintes  with  steel.  Right  so  as  pride  is  often 
tymo  mater  of  ire,  right  so  is  rancour  norice  and  keper  of 
ire.  Ther  is  a  aianer  tree,  as  saith  seint  Isidor,  that  whan 
men  maken  myr  of  thilke  tree,  and  cover  the  colis  with 
asshen,  sothly  the  fuyr  of  it  wol  lasten  al  a  yer  or  more; 
and  right  so  fareth  it  of  ran  our,  whan  it  <  o  les  isconceyvcd 
in  the  hertis  of  som  men,  certein  it  wol  lasten  fro  oon 
Estren  day  until  another  Ester  day,  and  more.  But  certis 
thilke  man  is  ful  fer  from  the  mercy  of  God  al  thilke  while. 

In  this  forsaide  develes  fornays  ther  forgen  thre 
schrewes  ;  pride,  that  ay  blowith  and  encresith  the  fuyr  by 
chidyng  and  wickid  wordis  ;  thanne  stont  envye,  and 
holdeth  the  hoote  iren  upon  the  hert  of  man,  with  a  paire 
of  longe  tonges  of  rancour  ;  arid  thanne  stout  the  sinne  of 
contumelie  or  strif  and  cheste,  and  baterith  and  forgeth 
by  vileyns  reprevyriges.  Certes  this  cursed  synne  annoy- 
eth  bothe  to  the  man  himsilf,  and  eek  to  his  neighebor. 
For  sothely  almost  al  the  harm  that  eny  man  doth  to -his 
neighebour  cometh  thurgh  wraththe.  For  certis,  outrage- 
ous wraththe  doth  al  that  ever  the  devyl  him  comaund- 
eth  }  for  he  ne  spareth  neyther  for  our  Lord  Jhesu  Crist, 
ne  his  moodir  ;  and  in  his  outrageous  anger  and  ire,  alias  ! 
ful  many  oon  at  that  tyme  felith  in  his  herte  ful  wikkedly, 
bothe  of  Crist,  and  eek  of  alle  his  halwes.  Is  nat  this  a 
cursed  vice?  Yis,  certis.  It  bynymeth  fro  man  his  witte 
and  his  vesoun,  and  al  his  deboneire  lyf  spirituel,  that 
scholde  kepen  his  soule.  Certes  it  bynymeth  eek  Goddis 
dewe  lordschipe  (and  that  is  mannes  soule)  and  the  love  of 
his  neighebor ;  it  stryveth  eek  alday  agayns  trouthe  ;  it 
reveth  him  eek  the  quiete  of  his  hert,  and  subvertith  his 
herte  and  his  soule. 

Of  ire  cometh  these  stynkynge  engendrures  ;  first,  hate, 


fUE  PERSONES  TALE.  53ft 


that  is  old  wraththe ;  discord,  thurgh  which  a  man  for 
Bakith  hJs  olde  frerid  that  he  hath  loved  ful  longe ;  and 
thanne  coineth  werre,  arid  every  maner  of  wronge  that 
man  doth  to  his  neighebor  in  body  or  in  catel.  Of  this 
cursed  synne  of  ire  coineth  eek  manslaughter.  And  under- 
storide  wel  that  homicidie  (tliat  is,  manslaughter)  is  in 
divers  wise.  Som  maner  of  homicidie  is  spirituel,  and  som 
is  bodily.  Spirituel  manslaughter  is  in  sixe  thiriges.  First, 
by  hate,  as  saith  seint  Johan,  he  that  hateth  his  brother, 
is  an  homicide.  Homicide  is  eek  by  bakbytyng,  of  whiche 
bakbiters  saith  Salomon,  that  thay  have  twaye  swerdes 
with  whiche  thay  slen  here  neighebors ;  for  sothely  as 
wikke  is  to  bynyme  his  good  name  as  his  lif.  Homicidy  is 
eek  in  gevyng  of  wikkid  counseil  by  fraude,  as  for  to  geve 
counseil  to  areyse  wicked  and  wrongful  custumes  arid  tali- 
ages  ;  of  whiche  saith  Salomon,  a  leouri  roryng  and  bere 
hungry  ben  like  to  the  cruel  lordschipes,  in  withholdyng 
or  abrigging  of  the  schipe  or  the  hyre  or  the  wages  of  ser- 
vauntes,  or  ellis  in  usure,  or  in  withdrawyng  of  almes  of 
pore  folk.  For  whiche  the  wise  man  saith,  feedith  him 
that  almost  dyeth  for  hunger,  for  sothely  but  if  thou  feede 
him  thou  slest  him.  And  eek  these  ben  dedly  synnes. 
Bodily  manslaughter  is,  whan  thou  sleest  him  with  thy 
tonge  in  other  manere,  as  whan  thou  comaundist  to  sleri 
a  man,  or  elles  givest  counseil  to  slee  a  man.  Man- 
slaughter in  dede  is  in  foure  maneres.  That  oon  is  by 
lawe,  right  as  a  justice  dampnith  him  that  is  coupable  to 
the  deth  ;  but  let  the  justice  be  war  that  he  do  it  right- 
fully, and  that  he  do  it  nought  for  delit  to  spille  blood, 
but  for  keping  of  rightwisnes.  Another  homicidy  is  doon 
for  necessite,  as  whan  a  man  sleth  another  him  defendaunt, 
and  that  he  ne  may  noon  other  wise  eschape  fro  his 
owen  deth  ;  but  certeynly,  if  he  may  escape  withoute 
slaughter  of  his  adversarie,  and  sleth  him,  he  doth  synne, 
and  he  schal  bere  penaunce  as  for  dedly  synne.  Eek  if  a 
man  by  caas  or  adventure  schete  an  arwe  or  cast  a  stooii 
with  which  he  sleth  a  man,  he  is  an  homicide.  Eke  if  a 
womman  by  negligence  overlye  hir  child  in  hir  sleping,  it 
is  homicide  and  deedly  synne.  Eke  whan  man  distourbith 
concepcioun  of  a  child,  and  makith  a  womman  outlier 
bareyn  by  drinke  of  venenous  herbis,  thurgh  whiche  sche 
may  nought  conceyve,  or  sleth  hir  child  by  drynkes,  or 
elles  putteth  certeyn  material  thinges  in  hir  secre  place  to 
slee  the  child,  or  elles  doth  unkyndely  synne,  by  which 
man,  or  womman,  schedith  here  nature  in  manne  or  in 
place  ther  as  the  child  may  nought  be  conceyved  ;  or  ellis 
of  a  wommau  have  coiiceyved,  and  hurt  hirself,  aud  sletu 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


the  child,  yit  is  it  horuycidie.  What  say  we  eek  of  womiuen 
that  mordren  nere  children  for  drede  of  worldly  schame? 
Certes,  it  is  an  horrible  homicidy.  Eek  if  a  man  approche 
to  a  wouiinan  by  desir  of  lecchery,  thurgh  tlie  which  the 
child  is  perischt  ;  or  elles  smitith  a  woinman  wytyngly,, 
thurgh  which  sche  sleeth  hir  child  ;  alle  these  ben  homi- 
cides, and  horrible  dedly  synnes.  Yit  cometh  ther  of  ire 
many  mo  synnes,  as  \vel  in  word,  as  in  werk  and  thought  ; 
as  he  that  arettith  upon  God,  and  blamith  God  of  thing  oi 
which  he  is  himself  gulty,  or  despisith  God  and  alle  his 
halwes,  as  doon  these  cursed  hasardours  in  divers  cun- 
trees.  This  cursed  synne  don  thay,  whan  thay  felen  in 
here  herte  ful  wickidly  of  God  and  his  halwes.  Also  whan 
thay  treten  unreverently  the  sacrament  of  the  auter,  tlrilke 
synne  is  so  gret,  that  unnethe  may  it  be  relessed,  but  that 
the  mercy  of  God  passith  alle  his  werkes,  and  is  so  gret 
and  so  benigne.  Thanne  cometh  of  ire  attry  anger,  whan 
a  man  is  scharply  amonested  in  his  schrifte  to  forlete  synne, 
thanne  wol  he  be  angry,  and  answere  hokerly  and  angrily, 
to  defenden  or  excusen  his  synne  by  unstedefastriesse  of 
his  fieisch ;  or  elles  he  dede  it  to  holde  companye  with 
his  felawes  ;  or  ellis  he  saith  the  fend  entised  him  ;  or  elles 
he  dide  it  for  his  youthe ;  or  ellis  his  complexioun  is  so 
coi-rageous  that  he  may  not  forbere  ;  or  ellis  it  is  desteny, 
as  he  saith,  unto  a  certeyn  age  ;  or  elles  he  saith  it  cometh 
him  of  gentilesce  of  his  auncetrie,  and  semblahle  thinges. 
Alle  these  maner  of  folk  so  wrappen  hem  in  here  synnes, 
that  thay  wol  nought  deliver  hemself.  For  sothely,  no 
wight  that  excuseth  him  wilfully  of  his  synne,  may  nought 
be  delivered  of  his  synne,  til  that  he  mekely  biknoweth 
his  synne.  After  th.3  thanne  cometh  sweryng,  that  is  ex- 
pres  agayns  the  comauridementz  of  God  ;  arid  this  bil'al- 
lith  often  of  angir  and  of  ire.  God  saith,  thou  schalt 
not  take  the  name  of  thy  Lord  God  in  vayn  or  in  ydil. 
Also,  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  saith  by  the  word  of  seint 
Mathew,  ne  schal  ye  not  owere  in  alle  manere,  neither  by 
heven,  for  it  is  Goiides  trone,  ne  by  the  eorthe,  for  it  is  (hi 
benche  of  his  feet,  ne  by  Jerusalem,  for  it  is  the  cite  of  a 
gret  king,  ne  by  thin  heed,  for  thou  may  nought  make  an 
her  whit  ne  blak  ;  but  sayeth,  by  youre  word,  ye,  ye,  and 
nay,  nay;  and  what  it  is  more,  it  is  of  evel.  Thus  saUh 
Jhesu  Crist.  For  Cristes  sake,  swereth  not  so  synfully,  in 
dismembring  of  Crist,  by  soule,  herte,  boones,  and  body  ; 
for  certes  it  semeth,  that  ye  thenke  that  cursed  Jewes  ne 
dismembrit  nought  y-nough  the  precious  persone  of  Crist, 
but  ye  disuiembre  him  more.  And  if  so  be  that  the  lawe 
coiupelle  yow  to  swere,  thanne  reule  yow  after  the  lav  e  of 


THE  I'EltSONES  TALE.  537 

Gfod  in  youre  swering,  as  saith  Jeremie,  c0.  iiij°.  Thou 
schalt  kepe  thre  condiciouns,  thou  schalt  swerein  trouthe, 
in  doom,  and  in  rightwisnes.  This  is  to  sayn,  thou  schalt 
swere  soth  ;  for  every  lesyng  is  agayns  Crist ;  for  Crist  is 
verray  trouthe.  And  think  wel  this,  that  every  gret 
swerer,  not  compellid  lawfully  to  swere,  the  wounde la 
8chal  riot  depart  fro  his  hous,  whil  lie  useth  such  unleful 
sweringe.  Thou  schalt  eek  sswere  in  doom,  whan  thou  art 
constreigned  by  thy  douiesniari  to  witnesse  the  trouthe. 
Eek  thou  schalt  not  swere  for  envye,  lie  for  favour,  ne  for 
meede,  but  oonly  for  rightwisriesse,  and  for  declaring  of  it 
to  the  worschip  of  God,  arid  helping  of  thin  even  cristen. 
And  therfore  every  man  that  takith  Goddes  name  in  ydil, 
or  falsly  swerith  with  his  mouth,  or  elles  takith  on  him 
the  name  of  Crist,  and  callith  himself  a  cristen  man,  and 
lyveth  agayn  Cristes  lyvyng  arid  his  teching,  alle  thay  take 
(ioddes  name  in  ydel.  Loke  eek  what  saith  seint  Peter, 
Act.  c°.  iiij".  Non  est  alhid  nomen  sub  coelo.  etc.;  There  is 
noon  other  name,  saith  seint  Peter,  under  heven  ne  geven 
to  noon  men,  in  which  thay  mowe  be  saved,  that  is  to 
sayn,  but  in  the  name  of  Jhesu  Crist.  Tak  heede  eek  how 
precious  is  the  name  of  Crist,  as  saith  seiul  Poule,  ad 
Philippenses  ij°.  In  nomine  Jkcsu,  etc.  that  in  the 
name  of  Jhesu  every  kne  of  hevenly  creatures,  or  erthely, 
yr  of  hello,  sc-htilde  bowe  ;  for  it  is  so  heigh  and  so  wor- 
schipful,  that  the  cursed  feend  in  lielle  schulde  tremble  to 
heeren  it  nempned.  Thanne  semeth  it,  that  men  that 
sweren  so  horribly  by  his  blessed  name,  that  thay  despise 
it  more  boldely  2)  than  dede  the  cursed  Jewes,  or  elles  the 
de"vel.  that  tremblith  whan  he  heerith  his  name. 

Now  certis,  sith  that  swering  (but  if  it  be  lawfully  doon) 
is  so  heihly  defendid,  moche  wors  is  forswering  falsely,  and 
yit  needeles. 

What  say  we  eek  of  hem  that  deli  ten  hem  in  swering, 
and  holden  it  a  gentery  or  manly  dede  to  swere  greteothis? 
And  what  of  hem  that  of  verray  usage  ne  cessen  nought  to 
swere  <:rete  othis.  al  be  the  cause  not  worth  a  strawe  'i 
Certes  this  is  horrible  synne.  Sweryng  sodeynly  without 
avysement  is  eek  a  gret  synne.  But  let  us  now  go  to 
thilke  horrible  sweryng  of  adjuracioun  and  conjuraciouns, 
as  doon  these  false  enchauntours  or  nigromanciens  in 
bacines  ful  of  water,  or  in  a  bright  swerd,  in  a  cercle,'-1  or 
Jn  a  fuyr,  or  in  the  schulder  bori  of  a  scheep  ;  I  can  not 


19  iron/nil'.     Tyrwhilt  rvtult- plage ;  the  H;irl.  Ms.  reads  iconder. 
v  bolil'  />/.     The  Hurl.  Ms.  reads  hidi/li/. 
o  cercle.    The  Harl.  MB.  reads  in  a  churc/ie. 


538  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


sayn,  but  that  thay  doon  cursedly  and  dampnably  agains 
Crist,  and  the  faith  of  holy  chirche. 

What  say  we  of  hem  that  bilieven  on  divinailes,  as  by 
flight  or  by  nois  of  briddes  or  of  bestes,  or  by  sort,  by  geo- 
mancie,  by  dremes,  by  chirkyng  of  dores  or  crakking  of 
howses,  by  gnawyng  of  rattis,  and  such  uianer  wreechid- 
nes  :  Certis,  al  this  thing  is  defended  by  God  and  holy 
chirche,  for  whiche  thay  ben  accursed,  til  thay  come  to 
amendement,  that  on  such  filthe  bisetten  here  bileeve. 
Charmes  for  woundes  or  malady  of  men  or  of  bestes,  if 
thay  take  eny  effect,  it  may  be  peradventure  Jiat  God 
suffreth  it,  for  folk  schulde  geve  the  more  faith  and  rev- 
erence to  his  name. 

JSow  wol  I  speke  of  lesynge,  whiche  generally  is  fals 
signifiaunce  of  word,  in  entent  to  desceyven  his  even 
cristen.  Som  lesyng  is,  of  whiche  ther  cometh  noon 
avauntage  to  noon  wight ;  and  som  lesyng  torneth  to  the 
ease  or  profit  of  som  man,  and  to  damage  of  another  man. 
Another  lesyng  is,  for  to  save  his  lif  or  his  catel.  An- 
other lesyng  cometh  of  delit  for  to  lye,  in  which  delit  thay 
wol  forge  a  long  tale,  and  paynte  it  with  alle  circum- 
staunces,  wher  as  the  ground  of  the  tale  is  fals.  Som 
lesyng  cometh,  for  he  wolde  susteyne  his  word.  Som 
lesyng  cometh  of  rechelesnes  witLoute  avisement,  and 
semblable  thiriges. 

Lat  us  now  touche  the  vice  of  flaterie,  which  cometh 
not  gladly,  but  for  drede,  or  for  coveitise.  Flaterie  is 
generally  wrongful  preysing.  Flaterers  ben  the  develes 
norices,  that  norissheii  his  children  with  mylk  of  losingerie. 
For  sothe  Salomon  saith,  that  flaterie  is  worse  than  detrac- 
cioun  ;  for  som  tyme  detracciouri  makith  an  hawteynman 
be  the  more  humble,  for  he  dredith  detraccioun,  but  certes 
flaterie  makith  a  man  to  enhaunsen  his  hert  and  his  couri- 
tenaunce.  Flaterei-s  ben  the  develes  enchauntours,  for 
thay  make  man  to  wene  of  himself  that  he  is  like  to  that 
he  is  nought  like.  Thay  ben  like  Judas,  that  bitraied 
God  ;  and  thise  flaterers  bitrayen  a  man  to  selle  him  to  his 
enemy,  that  is  the  devel.  Flaterers  ben  the  develes 
chapeleyns,  that  singen  ay  Placebo.  I  rekene  flaterie  in 
the  vices  of  ire  ;  for  ofte  tyme  if  oon  man  be  wroth  with 
another,  thanne  \vol  he  flatere  som  man,  to  mayntene  him 
in  his  querel. 

Speke  we  now  of  such  cursyng  as  cometh  of  irons  hert. 
Malisoun  generally'  may  be  said  every  maner  power  of 
harm  ;  such  cursyng  bireveth  man  fro  the  regne  of  God, 
as  saith  seint  Poule.  And  ofte  tyme  such  cursyng  wrong- 
fully retourneth  agayii  to  hym  that  curseth,  as  a  bird 


THE  PEIiSONES  TALK  539 


retourneth  agayn  to  his  owrie  ne^t.  And  over  alle  thinges 
men  oughten  eschewe  to  cursen  here  oughne  children,  and 
give  to  the  devel  here  engendrure,  as  ferforth  as  in  hem  is ; 
certis  it  is  gret  peril  and  gret  synne. 

Let  us  thanne  speke  of  chydynge  and  reproche,  whiche 
that  ben  ful  grete  woundes  in  mannes  hert,  for  they  un- 
sewe  the  semes  of  frendschipe  in  mannes  herte  ;  for  certis, 
unnethe  may  a  man  plainly  ben  accordid  with  him  that 
him  openly  revyled,  reproved,  and  disclaundrid ;  this  is  a, 
ful  grisly  synne,  as  Crist  saith  in  the  Gospel.  And  takitli 
keep  now,  that  he  that  reproveth  his  neighebor,  oiither  he 
reproveth  him  by  som  harm  of  peyne,  that  he  hath  upon 
his  body,  as  mesel,  croked  harlot ;  or  by  som  synne  that 
he  doth.  Now  if  he  repreve  him  by  harm  of  peyne,  thanne 
tornith  the  reproef  to  Jhesu  Crist  ',  for  peyne  is  sent  by 
the  rightwis  sonde  of  God,  and  by  his  suffrannce,  be  it. 
meselvie,  or  many  other  maladies ;--  and  if  he  repreve  him 
uncharitably  of  synne,  as,  thou  holour,  thou  dronkelewe 
harlot,  and  so  forth,  thanne  aperteyneth  that  to  the  re- 
joysing  of  the  devel,  that  ever  hath  joye  that  men  doon 
synne.  And  eertis,  chidyng  may  nought  come  but  out 
of  a  vileins  herte,  for  after  the  abundaunce  of  the 
herte  speketh  the  mouth  ful  ofte.  And  ye  schal  under- 
Btonde,  that  loke  by  any  way,  whan  any  man  schal  chastise 
another,  that  he  be  war  fro  chidyng  or  reprevyng;  for 
trewely,  but  he  be  war,  he  may  ful  lightly  quiken  the  fuyr 
of  anger  and  of  wraththe,  which  that  heschuldequenchen  ; 
and  peraventure  sleth,  that  he  mighte  chaste  with  benig- 
nite.  For,  as  sayth  Salomon,  the  amiable  tonge  is  the  tree 
of  lif ;  that  is  to  sayn,  of  life  espirituel.  And  sothely,  a  dis- 
lave  tonge  sleth  the  spirit  of  him  that  repreveth,  and  also 
of  him  which  is  repreved.  Lo,  what  saith  seint  Augustyn, 
there  is  no  thing  so  lik  the  fendes  child,  as  he  that  ofte 
chideth.  Seint  Poule  seith  eek.  a  servaunt  of  God  bihoveth 
nought  to  chide.  And  though  that  chidyng  be  a  vileins 
thing  bitwixe  alle  nuuier  folk,  yit  is  it  certes  more  uncov- 
enable  bitwix  a  man  and  his  wif,  for  ther  is  never  rest, 
And  therfore  saith  Salomon,  an  hous  that  is  uncovered  in 
rayn  and  droppyng,  and  a  chidyng  wyf,  ben  like.  A  man. 
that  is  in  a  dropping  lions  in  many  partes,  though  he 
eschowe  the  dropping  in  oon  place,  it  droppeth  on  him  in 
another  ptace  ;  so  farith  it  by  a  cnydirige  wyf,  but  sche 
chide  him  in  oon  place,  sche  wol  chide  him  in  another.  And 
therfore  better  is  a  morsel  of  bred  with  joye,  than  an  hous 
ful  of  delices  with  chyding,  seith  Salomon.  Seint  Foul 

K  man>j  uthtr  malo'l'va.    'J'yrwhitt  ruinta  iiu.im-,  or  maladit. 


540  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


saith,  o  ye  woramen,  be  ye  sugettis  to  youre  housbondes  as 
bihovith  in  God  ;  and  ye  men,  loveth  youre  wyves. 

After- ward  speke  we  of  scornyng,  which  is  a  wikked 
thing,  and  sinful,  and  namely  whan  he  scornith  a  man  for 
his  goode  workes  ;  for  certes,  suche  scorners  faren  lik  the 
foule  toode,  that  may  nought  endure  the  sooie  smel  of  the 
vine  roote,  whan  it  florischith.  These  scorners  ben  partyng 
felawes  with  the  devel,  for  thay  han  joye  whan  the  devel 
wynneth,  and  sorwe  whan  he  leseth.  Thay  ben  adversaries 
of  Jhesu  Crist,  for  thay  haten  that  he  loveth,  that  is  to  say, 
savacioun  of  soule. 

Speke  we  now  of  wikked  counseil  ;  for  he  that  wickid 
counseil  giveth  he  is  a  traytour,  for  he  deceyveth  him  that 
trusteth  in  him,  ut  Achitdfel  ad  Absolonem.  But  natheles, 
yet  is  his  wikkid  counseil  first  agens  himself.  For,  as  saith 
the  wise  man,  every  fals  lyvyng  hath  this  proprete  in  him- 
self, that  he  that  wil  anrioye  another  man,  he  annoyeth 
first  himself.  And  men  schul  uriderstonde,  that  man 
schulde  nought  take  his  counseil  of  fals  folk,  ne  of  angry 
folk,  or  grevous  folk,  ne  of  folk  that  loven  specially  to 
inoche  her  oughne  profyt,  ne  in  to  moche  worldly  folk, 
namely,  in  counselyng  of  mannes  soule. 

Now  cometh  the  synne  of  hem  that  sowen  and  maken 
discord  amonges  folk,  which  is  a  synne  that  Crist  hateth 
outrely  ;  and  no  wondir  is,  for  God  died  for  to  make  con- 
cord. And  more  schame  do  thay  to  Crist,  than  dede  thay 
that  him  crucifiede.  For  God  loveth  bettre.  that  frend- 
schipe  be  amonges  folk,  tharine  he  dide  his  owne  body, 
which  that  he  gaf  for  unitt'.  Therfore  ben  thay  likned  to 
the  devel,  that  ever  ben  aboute  to  make  discord. 

Now  comith  the  sinne  of  double  tonge,  suche  as  speken 
faire  biforn  folk,  and  wikkedly  bihynde  ;  or  elles  thay 
make  semblaunt  as  though  thay  speke  of  goodentencioun, 
or  ellis  in  game  and  play,  and  yit  thay  speke  in  wikked 
enterit. 

Now  cometh  the  wreying  of  counseil,  thurgh  which  a  man 
is  defamed  ;  certes  unnethe  may  he  restore  that  damage. 
Now  cometh  manace,  that  is  an  open  foly  ;  for  he  that  ofte 
manaceth,  he  threttith  more  than  he  may  parfourme  ful 
ofte  tyme.  Now  cometh  idel  wordes,  that  is  withoute  pro- 
fyt of  him  that  spekith  the  wordes,  and  eek  of  him  that 
herkeneth  tho  wordes  ;  or  elles  ydel  wordes  bert  tho  that 
ben  needeles,  or  withouten  entent  of  naturel  profyt.  And 
al  be  it  that  ydil  wordes  ben  som  tyme  venial  synne,  yit 
schulde  men  doute  hem  for  we  schuln  give  rekenynge  of 
liem  bifore  God.  Now  fomith  jangeling,  that  may  nought 
be  withoute  synne;  and,  as  saith  Salomon,  it  is  a  sjguf  of 


THE  PEESONES  TALE.  541 

apert  folie.  And  therfore  a  philosophre  said,  whari  men 
askid  him  how  men  schulde  plese  the  pceple,  and  he  an- 
swerde,  do  many  goode  werkes,  and  spek  fewe  jangeles. 
After  this  cometh  the  syrine  of  japers,  that  ben  the  develes 
apes,  for  thay  maken  folk  to  laughen  at  here  japes  ot 
japerie,  as  folk  doon  at  the  gaudes  of  an  ape  ;  suche  japes 
deferidith  seint  Poule.  Loke  how  that  vertuous  and  holy 
wordes  conforten  hem  that  travailen  in  the  service  of  Crist, 
right  so  conforten  the  vileins38  wordes  and  knakkis  and 
japeries  hem  that  travayle  in  the  service  of  the  devyl. 
These  ben  the  synnes  that  cometh  of  ire,  and  of  other 
synnes  many  mo. 

Remedium  contra  iram. 

Remedye  agayns  ire,  is  a  vertue  that  men  clepe  man- 
suetude,  that  is  deboneirto  ;  and  eek  another  vertue  that 
men  clepe  pacierice  or  sufferaunce.  Debonairete  withdraw- 
ith  and  restreigrieth  the  stiringes  and  the  moevynges  of 
mannys  corrage  in  his  herte,  in  such  manere,  that  thai  ne 
skip  not  out  by  anger  rie  by  ire.  Suffraunce  suffrith 
swetely  al  the  annoyaurice  and  the  wronges  that  men  doon 
to  man  out-ward.  Seint  Jerom  saith  thus  of  deboriairte, 
that  it  doth  noon  harm  to  no  wight,  ne  saith  ;  ne  for  noon 
harm  that  men  doon  ne  sayn,  he  ne  eschaufith  nought 
agayns  resoun.  This  vertu  comith  soin  tyme  of  nature  ; 
for,  as  saith  the  philosopher,  man  is  a  quik  thing,  by 
nature  debonaire,  and  tretable  to  goodnesse  ;  but  whan 
debonairete  is  enformed  of  grace,  than  is  it  the  more  worth. 

Pacierice  that  is  another  remedie  agains  ire,  is  a  vertu 
that  suffreth  swetely  every  mannes  goodries,  and  is  not 
wroth  for  noon  narm  that  is  doon  to  him.  The  philosopher 
saith,  that  pacierice  is  thilke  vertue  that  sufferith  debon- 
eirly  alle  the  outrages  of  adversite  and  every  wickid  word. 
This  vertue  makith  a  man  lik  to  God,  and  makith  him 
Goddes  oughne  dere  child,  as  saith  Crist.  This  vertu  d»- 
stroyeth  thin  enemy.  And  therfore  saith  the  wise  man,  if 
thou  wolt  venquisch  thin  enemy  lerne  to  suffre.  And  thoir 
schalt  understonde,  that  man  suffrith  foure  rnaners  of 
grevau rices  in  out-ward  thinges,  agains  whiche  he  moot 
have  four  rnaners  of  pacierice.  The  flrste  grevaunce  is  of 
wicked  wordes.  Thilke  sulTred  Jhesu  Crist,  withoutegruc- 
ching,  ful  paciently,  whan  the  Jewes  despised  him  and  re- 
proved him  ful  ofte.  SulTre  thou  therfore  paciently,  for 
the  wise  man  saith,  if  thou  strive  with  a  fool,  though  the 
fool  be  wroth,  or  though  he  laughhe,  algate  thou  sclmlt 
43  vileins.  The  Hari.  Ms.  reads  violent. 


642  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

have  no  rest.  That  other  grevaurice  out- ward  is  to  hav« 
damage  of  thi  catel.  Tlieragayn  suffred  Crist  ful  patiently, 
whan  he  was  despoylid  of  al  that  he  had  in  his  lif,  and  that 
nas  but  his  clothis.  The  thridde  grevaunce  is  a  man  to  have 
harm  in  his  body.  That  suii'red  Crist  ful  paciently  in  al  his 
passioun.  The  ferthe  grevaunce  is  in  outrageous  labour  in 
werkis  :  wherfore  I  say,  that  folk  that  maken  here  ser- 
vauntz  to  travaile  to  grevously,  or  out  of  tyme,  as  on  haly 
dayes,  sothely  thay  doori  greet  synne.  Hereagainst  suffred 
Crist  ful  patiently,  and  taughte  us  pacience,  whan  he  bar 
upon  his  blisfnl  schulder  the  croys  upon  whicl.  he  schulde 
suffre  despitous  deth.  Here  may  men  lerne  to  be  pacient; 
for  certes.  nought  oonly  cristen  men  ben  pacient  for  the  love 
of  Jhesu  Crist,  and  for  guerdoun  of  the  blisful  life  that  is 
pard arable,  but  the  olde  paynymes,  that  never  were 
cristen,  comaundedin  and  useden  the  vertu  of  pacience.  A 
philosopher  upon  a  tyme,  that  wolde  have  bete  his  disciple 
for  his  grete  trespas,  for  which  he  was  gretly  amoeved,  and 
brought  a  yerde  to  scourge  the  child,  and  whan  the  child 
saugh  the  yerde,  he  sayde  to  his  maister,  "  what  thenke  ye 
to  do  ?  •'  "I  wolde  bete  the,"  quod  the  maister,  "  for  thi 
correccioun."  "  Forsothe,"  quod  the  child,  "ye  oughte 
first  correcte  youresilf,  that  han  lost  al  youre  pacience  for 
the  gilt  of  a  child."  "  Forsothe,"  quod  the  maister  al 
wepyng,  "  thou  saist  soth  ;  have  thou  the  yerde,  my  deere 
sone,  and  correcte  me  for  myn  impatience."  Of  pacience 
cometh  obedience,  thurgh  which  a  man  is  obedient  to  Crist, 
and  to  alle  hem  to  which  him  oughte  to  be  obedient  in 
Crist.  And  understonde  wel,  that  obedience  is  parfyt, 
whan  a  man  doth  gladly  and  hastily  with  good  herte 
outrely  al  that  he  scholde  do.  Obedience  is  generally  to 
parforme  the  doctrine  of  God,  and  of  his  soveraignes,  to 
Arhiche  him  oughte  to  ben  obeissant  in  alle  rightwisnes. 

De  accidia. 

After  the  synne  of  envye  and  ire,  now  wol  I  speke  of 
accidie  ;  for  envy3  blendith  the  hert  of  a  man,  and  ire 
troublith  a  man,  and  accidie  inakith  him  hevy,  thoughtful, 
and  wrawe.  Envye  and  ire  maken  bitternes  in  herte,  which 
bitternesse  is  mooder  of  accidie,  and  bynimith  the  love  of 
alle  goodnes;  thanne  is  accidie  the  anguische  of  a  trouble 
hert.  And  seint  Augustyn  saith,  it  is  annoye  of  goodriesse 
and  annoye  of  harme.  Certes  this  is  a  dampnable  synne, 
for  it  doth  wrong  to  Jhesu  Crist,  inasmocheas  itbynymeth 
the  service  that  we  ought  to  do  to  Crist  with  alle  diligence, 
as  suith  Salomon  ;  but  accidie  doth  noon  such  diligence. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  543 


He  doth  alle  thing  with  anoy,  and  with  wraweness,21 
Blaknes,  and  excusacioun,  and  with  ydelnes  and  unlust ; 
for  which  the  book  saith,  accursed  be  he  that  doth  the  ser- 
vice of  Grod  necligently.  Thanne  is  accidie  enemy  to  every 
astaat  of  man.  For  certes  thestatof  man  is  in  thro  mariers  ; 
either  it  is  thestat  of  innocence,  as  was  thastate  of  Adam, 
biforn  that  he  fel  into  synne,  in  which  estate  he  is  holden 
to  worche,  as  in  herying  and  honouryng  of  God.  Another 
astat  is  thestate  of  sinful  man  ;  in  which  estate  men  ben 
holden  to  labore  in  praying  to  (iod  for  aiiiendemerit  of  her 
synu-*1.  and  that  he  wolde  graunte  hem  to  rise  out  of  here 
synnes,  Another  estaat  is  thestate  of  grace,  in  which  he 
is  holde  -^  werkis  of  penitence ;  and  certes,  to  alle  these 
thinges  is  accidie  enemye  and  contrarie,  for  it  loveth  no 
busynes  at  al.  Now  certis,  this  foule  synne  accidie  is  eek 
a  ful  gret  enemy  to  the  liflode  of  the  body  ;  for  it  hath  no 
purveaurice  agens  temporel  necessite,  for  it  forslowthith, 
and  forsluggith,  and  destroyeth  alle  goodes  teuiporels  by 
rechelesries. 

The  ferthe  thing  is  that  accidie  is  like  hem  that  ben  in 
the  peyne  of  helle,  bycause  of  her  slouthe  and  of  her 
hevynes  ;  for  thay  that  ben  dampned,  ben  so  bounde,  that 
thay  may  nought  wel  do  ne  wel  thenke.  Of  accidie  cometh 
first,  that  a  man  is  annoyed  and  ericombrid  for  to  do  eny 
goodnes  and  makith  that  Grod  hath  abhominacioun  of  such 
accidie,  as  saith  seint  Johan. 

Now  cometh  slouthe,  that  wol  suffre  noon  hardnes  ne 
no  penaunce  ;  for  sothely,  slouthe  is  so  tend  re  and  so  del- 
ieat,  as  saith  Salomon,  that  he  wol  suffre  noon  hardnes  ne 
penaunce,  arid  therfore  he  schendeth  al  that  he  doth. 
Agayns  this  roten  hertid  synne  of  accidie  and  of  slouthe 
schuiden  men  exercise  hemself  to  do  goode  werkes,  and 
manly  and  vertuously  cacchiii  corrage  weltodoo,  thinking 
that  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  quiteth  every  good  dede,  be  it 
never  so  lyte.  Usage  of  labour  is  a  ful  greet  thing  ;  for  it 
makith,  as  saith  seint  Bernard,  the  laborer  to  have  stronge 
armes  and  harde  synewes  ;  and  slouthe  maketh  hem  feble 
and  tendre.  Thanne  cometh  di-ede  to  bygynne  to  werke 
eny  goode  deedes ;  for  certes,  who  that  is  enclined  to  don 
synne,25  him  thinkith  it  is  so  gret  emprise  for  to  undertake 
to  doon  werkes  of  goodnes,  and  casteth  in  his  herte  that  the 
circumstauiices  of  goodnes  ben  so  grevous  and  so  charge- 
aunt  for  to  suffre,  that  he  dare  not  undertake  to  doon 
werkes  of  goodnes,'-6  as  saith  seint  Gregory. 

14  icrau-enes.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  drau-eiiess. 

25  who  that  is  enclineil  to  don  fyttne.    Tvrwliitt  reads  he  that  tncllneth  ta 
finite. 

*°  and  catsteth  . .  .  wv/'A'w  (fywdius.    Tbeau  \voixLd  aru  n«ithtr  in  the  HarL 


544  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES, 

Now  cometh  wanhope,  that  is,  despair  of  the  mercy  of 
God,  that  cometh  som  tyme  of  to  moche  outrageous  sorwe, 
and  som  tyme  of  to  moche  drede,  ymagynynge  that  he  hath 
do  so  moche  synne  that  it  will  not  availe  him,  though  he 
wolde  repent  him,  and  forsake  synne;  thurgh  which  de- 
speir  or  drede,  he  abandounith  al  his  herte  to  alle  maner 
synne,  as  seith  seint  Augustin.  Whiche  dampnablesynne, 
if  ther  it  continue  unto  his  lyves  ende,  it  is  cleped  the  syri- 
uyng  of  the  holy  gost.  This  horrible  synne  is  so  perilous, 
that  he  that  is  despaired,  ther  is  no  felonye,  ne  no  synne, 
that  he  doutith  for  to  do,  as  schewed  wel  by  Judas.  Certes, 
above  alle  synnes  than  is  this  synne  most  displesant  to 
Crist,  and  most  adversarie.  Sothely,  he  that  despeirith  him, 
is  like  the  coward  campiouii  recreaunt,  that  flieth27  with- 
oute  need?.  Alias !  alias !  needeles  is  he  recreaunt,  and 
needeles  despaired.  Certes,  the  mercy  of  God  is  ever  redy 
to  the  penitent,  and  is  above  alle  his  werkes.  Alias !  can 
not  a  man  bythenk  him  on  the  Gospel  of  seint  Luk,  wheras 
Crist  saith,  that  as  wel  schal  ther  be  joye  in  heven  upon  a 
syriful  man  that  doth  penitence,  as  upon  nynety  and  nyne 
that  ben  rightful  men  that  needen  no  penitence  1  Loke 
forther  in  the  same  Gospel,  the  joye  and  the  fest  of  the 
goode  man  that  had  lost  his  sone,  whan  the  sone  with  re- 
pentaunce  was  torned  to  his  fader.  Can  riot  thay  remem- 
bre  eek  that  as  saith  seint  Luk,  xxiij0,  how  that  the  thef 
that  was  hangid  biside  Jhesu  Crist,  sayde,  Lord,  remembre 
of  me,  whan  thou  comest  into  thy  regne  1  For  sothe  saith 
Crist,  to-day  thou  schalt  be  with  me  in  paradis.  Certis, 
ther  is  noon  so  horrible  synne  of  man,  that  it  lie  may  in  his 
lif  be  destroyed  with  penitence,  thorugh  vertue  of  the  pas- 
sioun  of  the  deth  of  Crist.  Alias  !  what  iieedith  it  man 
thanne  to  be  despaired,  sith  that  his  mercy  is  so  redy  and 
large  1  Aske  and  have.  Thanne  cometh  sompnolence, 
that  is,  sluggy  slumbring,  which  makith  a  man  ben  hevy 
and  dul  in  body  arid  in  soule,  and  this  synne  cometh  of 
sleuth  e  ;  and  certes,  the  tyme  that  by  way  of  resoun  man 
schulde  nought  slepe,  that  is  by  the  morwe,  but  if  thev 
were  cause  resonable.  For  sothely  the  morwe  tyde  is  most 
covenable  to  a  man  to  say  his  prayers,  arid  for  to  thenk 
upon  his  God,  and  to  horioure  God,  and  to  geve  almes  to 
the  pore  that  first  cometh  in  trie  name  of  Crist.  Lo  what 
saith  Salomon  :  who  so  wol  by  the  morwe  arise  and  seeke 
me,  schal  fynde  me.  Than  cometh  negligence  thatrekkith 
of  nothing.  And  how  that  ignoraunce  be  moder  of  alle 
harm,  certis,  necgligence  is  the  norice.  Necligence  doth 

-'  flleth.    So  Tyrwhitt ;  the  II arl  reads  that  seith  recreaunt  witlioute  neede. 
The  reading  of  the  -Lansd.  ^Is.  i»  «<'/<e  crvant. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  545 


no  force,  whan  he  schul  doon  a  thing,  whethir  he  doo  it 
wel  or  baddely. 

Of  the  remedy  of  these  tuo  synnes,  as  saith  the  wise  jjian, 
that  he  thatdredith  (iod,  he  sparith  nought  to  do  that  him 
ought  to  dori  ;  and  he  that  lovith  God,  wol  do  diligence 
to  plese  God  by  his  werkis  and  abounde  himself,  with  alle 
Uis  might,  wel  for  to  doon.  Thanne  comith  ydelnes,  that  is 
the  gate  of  alle  harmes.  An  ydil  man  is  like  an  hous  that 
hath  noone  walles  ;  the  develes  may  entre  on  every  syde  or 
schete  at  him  at  discovert  by  temptaciouns  on  every  ^yde. 
This  ydelnes  is  the  thurrokof  alle  wickid  vileyns  thoughtes, 
and  of  alle  jangles,  tryfles,  and  of  alle  ordure.  Certes  the 
he  veil  is  geven  to  hem  that  wol  laboure  and  nought  to  ydil 
folk.  Eke  David  saith,  that  thay  ne  ben  not  in  the  labour 
of  men,  ne  thay  schul  not  be  wiped  with  men,  that  is  to 
sain,  in  purgatorie.  Certis  thanne  semeth  it  that  thay 
schal  be  tormentid  with  the  devel  in  helle,  but  if  thay  don 
penitence. 

Thanne  comith  the  synne  that  men  clepe  tarditas,  as 
whan  a  man  is  so  latrede  or  taryinger  he  wiltorne  to  God; 
and  certis,  that  is  a  gret  foly.  He  is  like  him  that  fallith 
Into  the  diche.  and  wol  not  arise.  And  his  vice  cometh  of 
a  fals  hope,  that  he  thinkith  he  schal  ly  ve  longe  ;  but  that 
hope  fayleth  full  ofte. 

Thanne  comitli  laches,  that  is,  he  that  when  he  bigyn- 
neth  any  good  werk,  arioon  he  wol  forlete  it  and  synte,  as 
doon  thay  that  han  eriy  wight  to  governe,  and  ne  take  of 
h^m  no  more  keep  anoon  as  thay  fynde  eny  contrarie  or 
eny  anoy.  These  ben  the  newe  schepherdes,  that  leteri  her 
schep  wityngely  go  renne  to  the  wolf,  that  is  in  the  breres, 
or  don  no  force  of  her  oughne  governaunce.  Of  this  cometh 
povert  and  destruccioun,  bothe  of  spiritueland  of  temporel 
thinges.  Thanne  cometh  a  maner  coldenesse,  that  freseth 
al  the  hert  of  man.  Thanne  cometh  undevocioun  thurgh 
which  a  man  is  so  blunt,  and  as  saith  seint  Bernard,  he 
hath  such  a  langour  in  soule,  that  he  may  iieyther  rede  ne 
synge  in  holy  chirche,  ne  heere  ne  thinke  on  devocioun  in 
holy  chirche,  ne  travayle  with  his  hondes  in  no  good  werk, 
that  nys  to  him  unsavory  and  al  apalled.  Thanne  waxith 
he  slowe  and  slombry,  and  soone  wol  he  be  wroth,  arid 
soone  is  enclined  to  hate  and  to  envye.  Thanne  cometh 
the  synne  of  worldly  sorwe  such  as  is  clepid  tristitia,  that 
sleth  man,  as  saith  seint  Poule.  For  certis  such  sorwe 
werkith  to  the  deth  of  the  soule  and  of  the  body  also,  for 
therof  coineth,  that  a  man  is  anoyed  of  his  oughne  lif, 
which  sorwe  schorteth  ful  ofte  the  lif  of  a  man  or  that  his 
tyme  is  come  by  way  of  kynde. 


546  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Remedium  contra  accidiam. 

Agains  this  horrible  synne  of  accidie,  and  the  braunches 
of  the  same,  ther  is  a  vertu  that  is  cleped  fortitudo  or 
strengthe,  that  is,  an  affeccioun  thurgh  which  a  man  de- 
spiseth  alle  noyous  thinges.  This  vertu  LS  so  mighty  and 
so  vigurous,  that  it  dar  withstonde  mightily  the  devel, 
and  wisely  kepe  himself  from  perils  that  ben  wiched,  and 
wrastil  agairis  the  assautes  of  the  devel  ;  for  it  enhaunsith 
and  enforceth  the  soule,  right  as  accidie  abateth  it  and 
makith  it  feble ;  for  this  fortitudo  may  endure  with  long 
sufl'eraunce  the  travailes  that  ben  covenables.  This  vertu 
hath  many  spices;  the  first  is  cleped  niagnanimite,  that  is 
to  sayn  gret  corrage.  For  certis  ther  bihoveth  gret  cor- 
rage  agains  accidie,  lest  that  it  ne  swolwe  not  the  soule 
by  the  synne  of  sorwe,  or  destroye  it  by  wanhope. 
This  vertu  makith  folk  undertake  harde  and  grevous 
thinges  by  her  owne  wille,  wilfully  and  resonably.  And 
for  als  moche  as  the  devel  fighteth  agaynst  a  man  more  by 
queyntise  and  by  sleight  than  by  strengthe,  therfore  man}1- 
a  man  schal  ageinstonde  him  by  witte,  and  by  resoun,  and 
by  discrecioun.  Thanne  is  ther  the  vertu  of  faith,  and 
hope  in  God  and  in  his  seintes,  to  acheven  ^  and  to  accom- 
plice the  goode  werkes,  in  the  whiche  he  purposith  fermely 
to  continue.  Thanne  cometh  seurte  or  sikernes,  and  that 
is  whan  a  man  doutith  no  travaile  in  tyme  comyng  of  good 
werk  that  a  man  hath  bygonne.  Thanne  cometh  magnifi- 
cence, that  is  to  say,  whan  a  man  doth  and  performith 
grete  werkes  of  goodnesse  that  he  hath  bygoime,  and  that  is 
thend  why  that  men  schulden  do  goode  werkes.  For  in  the 
accomplising  of  grete  goode  werkes  lith  the  grete  guerdoun. 
Thanne  is  ther  constaunce,  that  isstablenes  of  corrage.  and 
this  schulde  ben  in  herte  by  stedefast  faith,  and  in  mouthe 
and  in  berying,  and  in  cheer,  and  in  deede.  Eek  ther  ben 
mo  special  remedies  agayns  accidie,  in  dyvers  werkis,  and 
in  consideracioun  of  the  peyne  of  helle  and  of  the  joye  of 
heven,  and  in  the  trust  of  the  hyhe  grace  of  the  holy  gost, 
that  wil  geve  him  might  to  parforme  his  good  entent. 

De  avaritia. 

After  accidie  I  wil  speke  of  avarice,  and  of  coveytise  ; 
of  whiche  synne  saith  seint  Poule,  that  the  roote  of  alle 
eveles  and  harmes  is  coveytise.  For  sothely  whan  the  hert 
of  man  is  confoundid  in  itself  and  troubMd,  and  that  the 

28  acheven.    The  Hurl.  Ms.  reads  to  e.scfiew,  which  appears  to  be  contrary 
to  the  sense. 


THE  PEBSONES  TALE.  547 


Bonle  hath  lost  the  comfort  of  God,  thanne  seekith  he  an 
ydel  solas  of  worldly  tillages.  Avarice,  after  the  descrip- 
cioua  of  seint  Austya,  is  a  likerousnes  ia  hert  to  have  erthely 
thiages.  Soaie  other  folk  sayn,  that  avarice  is  for  to 
purchase  aiaay  erthely  thiages,  aad  ao  thing  geve  to  hem 
that  han  aeede.  Aad  uaderstoade,  that  avarice  ae  stoat 
aot  ooaly  ia  load  ae  ia  catel,  but  soai  tyine  ia  scieace  aad 
ia  glorie,  aad  eay  aiaaer as  outrageous  thiages  is  avarice. 
Aad  the  difference  bytwixe  avarice  aad  coveytise  is  this  : 
coveitise  is  for  to  coveyte  suche  thiages  as  thou  hast  aot ; 
aad  avarice  is  to  withholde  aad  kepe  suche  thiages  as  thou 
hast,  withoute  rightful  aeede.  Sothely,  this  avarice  is  a 
syaae  that  is  ful  daiupaable,  for  al  holy  writ  curseth  it, 
and  spekith  agaya  that  vice,  for  it  doth  wrong  to  Jhesu 
Crist  ;  for  it  bireveth  him  the  love  that  aiea  to  him  owen, 
aad  turaith  it  bakward  agayas  al  resoua,  aad  aiakith  that 
the  avafous  aiaa  hath  more  hope  ia  his  catel  thaa  ia 
Jhesu  Crist,  aad  doth  aiore  observauace  in  kepiag  of  his 
tresour,  thaa  he  doth  HI  the  service  of  Jhesu  Crist.  Aad 
therfore  saith  seiat  Poule,  ad  Ephes.  that  aa  averous  aiaa 
is  ia  the  thraldom  of  ydolatrie. 

What  diil'ereace  is  ther  bitwea  an  ydolaster  and  aa  ava- 
rous  man,  but  that  an  ydolaster  peradventure  hadde  but  a 
inawmeat  or  tuo,  arid  the  avarous  man  hath  aiaaye  ?  for 
certes,  every  floreiae  in  his  coffre  is  his  mawaiet.  And 
certes,  the  syaae  of  mawmetrie  is  the  firste  thing  that  God 
defendith  in  the  tea  comaundementz,  as  berith  \vitaes  ia 
Exod.  cap.  xx,  Thou  schalt  have  nooae  false  troddes  biforn 
aie,  ne  thou  schalt  make  to  the  ao  grave  thing.  Thus  is  he 
an  averous  man,  that  loveth  his  tresor  tofora  God,  and  aa 
idolaster.  Thurgh  his  cursed  syaae  of  avarice  aad  coveyt- 
ise coaiea  these  harde  lordschipes,  thurgh  whiche  aiea  ben 
destreyaed  by  talliages,  custumes,  aadcariages,  more  thaa 
here  duete  of  resoun  is  ;  and  elles  take  thay  of  here  bonde- 
men,  amercimeates,  whiche  mighte  more  rosoaably  bea 
callid  extorciouas  than  mercymentis.  Of  whiche  mersy- 
meats  aad  raunsonyng  of  bondemea,  some  lordes  styw- 
ardes  seya.  that  it  is  rightful,  for  as  moche  as  a  cherl  hath 
ao  temporel  thing  that  it  ays  his  lordes,  as  thay  sayn.  But 
certes,  thise  lordeshipes  doon  wrong,  that  bireven  here 
bondemen  thinges  that  thay  never  gave  hem.  Auyustimis 
de  Civitdte  Dei,  libro  ix.  Soth  is  the  condicioua  of  thral- 
dom, and  the  firste  cause  of  thraldom  is  siaae.  Gents.  \. 

Thus  may  ye  seen,  that  the  gilt  deserved  thraldom,  but 
not   nature.      Wherfore   these   lordes  schulden  nought  to 
luoche  glorifle  in  here  lordschipes,  sith  that  by  naturel  con- 
">  e ny  mantr,    Tyrwhitt  reads  in  every  manor. 


548  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES, 

dicionn  thay  ben  nought  lordes  of  here  thralles,  but  for 
thraldom  com  first  by  the  desert  of  synne.  And  forther- 
over,  ther  as  the  lawe  sayth,  that  temporel  goodes  of 
bondefolk  been  the  goodes  of  her  lordes  ;  ye,  that  is  to 
understonde,  the  goodes  of  the  emperour,  to  defende  hem  in 
here  right,  but  not  to  robbe  hem  ne  to  reve  hem.  And 
therfore  seith  Seneca,  thi  prudence  schulde  live  benignely 
with  thi  thrallis.  Thilke  that  thay  clepe  thralles,  ben 
Goddes  poeple  ;  for  humble  folk  ben  Cristes  frendes ; 
thay  ben  contubernially  with  the  Lord.  Thenk  eek  as  of 
such  seed  as  cherles  springen  of  such  seed  springe  lordes  ;  as 
wel  may  the  cherl  be  saved  as  the  lord.  The  same  deth 
that  takith  the  cherl,  such  deth  takith  the  lord.  Wher- 
fore  1  rede,  do  right  so  with  thi  cherl  as  thou  woldist  thi 
lord  dide  with  the,  if  thou  were  in  his  plyt.  Every  sinful 
man  is  a  cherl  as  to  synne.  I  rede  the  certes,  thou  lord, 
that  thou  werke  in  such  a  wise  with  thy  cherles  that  thay 
rather  love  the  than  drede  the.  I  wot  wel,  ther  is  degre 
above  degre,  as  resoun  is  and  skil,  that  men  don  her  devoir 
ther  as  it  is  dewe  ;  but  certes,  extorciouns,  and  despit  of 
cure  undirlinges,  is  dampnable. 

And  forthermore  understonde  wel,  that  conquerours  or 
tyrauntes  maken  ful  ofte  thralles  of  hem  that  born  ben  of 
als  royal  blood  as  ben  thay  that  hem  conqueren.  This 
name  of  thraldom  3D  was  never  erst  couth  til  Noe  sayde  that 
his  sone  Chanaan  schulde  be  thral  of  his  bretheren  for  his 
synne.  What  say  we  thanne  of  hem  that  pylen  and  doon 
extorciouns  to  holy  chirche  ?  Certis,  the  swerdes  that  men 
geven  first  to  a  knight  whan  he  is  newe  dubbyd,  signifieth 
faith,  and  that  he  schulde  defende  holy  chirche,  and  not 
robbe  it  ne  pyle  it ;  and  who  so  doth  is  traitour  to  Crist. 
And  as  seith  seint  Austin,  thay  ben  the  develes  wolves,  that 
stranglen  the  scheep  of  Jhesu  Crist,  and  doon  wors  than 
wolves  ;  for  sothely,  whan  the  wulf  hath  ful  his  wombe,  he 
stintith  to  strangle  scheep  ;  but  sothly,  the  pilours  and 
the  destroyers  of  the  goodes  of  holy  chirche  ne  doon  nought 
so,  for  thai  stinte  never  to  pile.  Now  as  I  have  sayd,  sith 
so  is,  that  synne  wa,s  first  cause  of  thraldom,  thanne  is  it 
thus,  that  ilke  tyme  that  al  this  world  was  in  synne,  thanne 
was  al  this  world  in  thraldom,  and  in  subjeccioun  ;  but 
certis,  sith  the  tyme  of  grace  com,  God  ordeyned  that 
somnie  folk  schulde  be  more  heigh  in  estaate  and  in  degre, 
and  somme  folkes  more  lowe,  arid  that  everich  schulde  be 
served  in  here  estate  and  in  degree.  And  therfore  in  somme 
contrees  there  thay  ben  thralles,  whan  thay  han  turned 
hem  to  the  faith,  thay  make  here  thralles  free  out  of  thraJ 
80  thraldom.  The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  cherldom. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  549 


doin.  And  therfor  certis  the  lord  oweth  to  his  man,  that 
the  man  owith  to  the  lord.  The  pope  callith  himself  ser- 
vauut  of  servaunts  of  (iod.  But  for  as  moche  as  thestaat 
of  holy  chirche  ne  might  not  have  ben,  ne  the  commune 
profit  might  nought  have  ben  kepte,  ne  pees  ne  reste  in 
erthe,  but  if  God  had  ordeyned  som  man  of  heilier  degre, 
and  some  men  of  lower,  therfore  was  soveraignte  ordeyned 
to  kepe,  and  to  maynteiie,  and  defende  her  underlynges  or 
her  subjectis  in  resoun,  as  ferforth  as  it  lith  in  her  power, 
and  not  to  destroye  ne  confounde  hem.  Wherfore  I  say, 
that  thilke  lordes  that  be  like  wolves,  that  devouren  the 
possessiouii  or  the  catel  of  pore  folk  wrongfully  withoute 
mercy  or  mesure,  thay  schul  recey  ve  by  the  same  mesure 
that  thay  hail  mesured  to  pover  folk  the  mercy  of  Jhesu 
Crist,  but  if  it  be  amendid.  Now  cometh  deceipt  bitwixe 
marchaunt  and  marchaunt.  And  thou  schaltunderstonde 
that  marchaundise  is  in  tuo31  maneres,  that  oon  is  bodily, 
and  that  other  is  gostly  ;  that  oon  is  honest  and  leful,  and 
that  other  is  dishonest  and  tmleful.  Of  thilke  bodily  mar- 
chaundise that  is  honest  and  leful  is  this,  that  ther  as  God 
hath  ordeyned  that  a  regne  or  a  cuntre  is  suffisaunt  to 
himself,  thanne  is  it  honest  and  leful  that  of  the  abun- 
daunce  of  this  contro  men  helpe  another  cuntre  that  is  more 
needy  ;  and  therfore  ther  moote  be  marchauntz  to  bringe 
fro  that  oon  cuntre  to  that  other  her  merchaundise.  That 
other  marchaundise,  that  men  hauntyn  with  fraude,  and 
trecchcrie,  and  deceipt,  with  lesynges  and  fals  othis,  is 
cursed  and  dampnable.  Espirituel  marchaundize  is  prop- 
rely  symonie,  that  is,  ententyf  desire  to  beye  thing  espirit- 
uel,  that  is,  thing  that  apperteyrieth  to  the  seintuarie  of 
God,  and  to  the  cure  of  the  soule.  This  desire,  if  so  be  that 
a  man  do  his  diligence  to  parforine  it,  al  be  it  that  his  de- 
sir  take  noon  effect,  yit  is  it  to  him  a  dedly  synne  ;  and  if 
he  be  ordrid,  he  is  irreguler.  Certis,  symonye  is  cleped  of 
Symon  Magus,  that  wolde  han  bought  for  temporel  catel 
the  gifte  that  God  had  given  by  the  holy  gost  to  seintPetir 
and  to  thapostlis  ;  and  therfore  understonde,  that  bothe 
he  that  sellith  and  lie  that  bieth  thinges  espiritueles  ben 
cleped  symonials,  be  it  by  catel,  be  it  by  procurement,  or 
by  fleisshly  prayere  of  his  frendes,  either  fleisshly  frendes 
or  spirituel  frendes,  fleisshly  in  tuo  maneres,  as  by  kynrede 
or  other  frendes.  Sothely,  if  thay  pray  for  him  that  is  not 
worthy  and  able,  if  he  take  the  benefice  it  is  symonie  ;  and 
if  he  be  worthy  and  able,  it  is  11011.  That  other  maner  is, 
whan  man,  or  woman,  prayen  for  folk  to  avaunce  hem 

81  tun.    The  Harl.  Ms.  reads  in  many  maneres,  which  seems  by  the  con- 
text to  be  wrong. 


560  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


oonly  for  wikkid  fleisshly  affeccioun  that  thay  have  unto 
the  persone,  and  that  is  ful  syinonye.  But  eertis,  in  ser- 
vice, for  whiehe  men  given  thinges  espirituels  unto  her  ser- 
vauntes,  it  moste  ben  understonde,  that  the  service  inoste 
be  honest,  and  ellis  not,  and  eek  that  it  be  withoute  bar- 
gaynyng,  and  that  the  persone  be  able.  For,  as  saith  seint 
Damase,  alle  the  synnes  of  this  world,  at  the  reward  of  this 
synne,  is  a  thing  of  nought,  for  it  is  the  gretteste  synne  that 
may  be  after  the  synne  of  Lucifer  and  of  Antecrist ;  for  by 
this  synne  God  forlesith  the  chirche  and  the  soule,  that  he 
bought  with  his  precious  blood,  by  hem  that  geven  chirches 
to  hem  that  ben  riot  digne,  for  thay  putten  in  theves,  that 
stelen  the  soules  of  Jhesu  Crist,  and  destroyen  his  patri- 
moygne.  By  suche  undigne  prestis  and  curates  han  lewed 
men  lasse  reverence  of  the  sacrament  of  holy  chirche  ;  and 
suche  geveres  of  chirches  putten  out  the  children  of  Crist, 
and  putten  into  the  chirche  the  develes  oughne  sone  ; 
thay  sellen  soules  that  lambes  schuldekepe  to  the  wolf  that 
stranglith  hem  ;  and  therfore  schal  thay  never  have  part 
of  the  pasture  of  lambes,  that  is,  the  blisse  of  heven. 

Now  conieth  hasardrie  with  his  appertenaunce,  as  ta- 
bles and  rafles,  of  whiehe  cometh  deceipt,  fals  othis,  chid- 
ynges,  and  alle  raveynes,  blasphemyng,  arid  reneying  of 
God  and  hate  of  his  neighebors,  wast  of  goodes,  mispend- 
ing  of  tyme,  and  som  tyme  manslaughter.  Certes,  hasard- 
ours  ne  mowe  not  be  withoute  gret  synne,  whil  thay 
haunte  that  craft.  Of  avarice  cometh  eek  lesynges. 
thefte,  and  fals  witnesse  and  fals  othes.  And  ye  schul  un- 
dirstonde  that  these  ben  grate  synnes,  and  expresce  agains 
the  comaundementz  of  God,  as  I  have  sayd.  Fals  witnesse 
is  in  word  and  eek  in  dede  ;  as  for  to  bireve  thin  neighebor 
his  good  name  by  thy  fals  witnessinge,  or  bireve  him  his 
catel  or  his  heritage  by  thy  fals  witnesse,  whan  thou  for 
ire,  or  for  meede,  or  for  envie,  berest  fals  witnes,  or  accus- 
ist  him,  or  excusist  him  by  thy  fals  witnes,  or  ellis  excusist 
thiself  falsly.  Ware  vow,  questemongers  and  notaries. 
Certis,  for  fals  witnessynge  was  Susanna  in  ful  gret  sorwe 
and  peyne,  and  many  another  mo.  The  synne  of  thefte  is 
eek  expresse  agayns  Goddes  hestis,  and  that  in  tuo  maners, 
corporel  and  spirituel ;  corporel,  as  for  to  take  thy  neighe- 
bours  catel  agayns  his  wille,  be  it  by  force  or  by  sleight  ; 
be  it  by  mette  or  by  mesure  ;  by  stelynge  eek  of  fals  en- 
ditements  upon  him  ;  and  in  borwyng  of  thin  neghebores 
catelle  in  eritent  never  to  paye,  and  in  semblable  thinges. 
Espirituel  thefte  is  sacrilege,  that  is  to  sayn,  hurtynge  of 
holy  thinges,  or  of  thing  sacred  to  Crist.  Sacrilege  is  in 
tuo  maneres  ;  that  0011  is  by  reasoun  of  holy  place,  as 


THE  PERSONES  TALK  551 

chirohes  or  chirchehawes  ;  for  whiche  every  vileins  synna 
that  men  doon  in  suche  places  may  be  ciepid  sacrilege,  or 
every  violence  in  semblable  place  ;  that  other  maner  is  as 
tho  tliat  withdrawen  falsly  the  rentes  and  rightes  that 
longen  to  holy  chirche  ;  and  generally,  sacrilege  is  to  reve 
holy  thing  fro  holy  place,  or  unholy  thing  out  of  holy 
place,  or  holy  thing  out  of  unholy  place. 

Remedium  contra  avariciam. 

Now  schul  ye  understonde  that  the  relevynge  of  avarice 
is  misericorde  and  pite  largely  taken.  And  men  might 
axen,  why  that  misericord  and  pite  is  relievyng  of  avarice  ; 
certes,  the  avaricious  man  schewith  no  pite  rie  misericorde  to 
the  needeful  man.  For  he  delitith  him  in  the  kepyng  of  his 
tresor,  and  nought  in  the^rescowing  ne  relievyng  of  his  even 
cristen.  And  therfore  speke  I  first  of  misericord.  Thanne 
is  misericord,  as  saith  the  philosopher,  a  vertu,  by  which 
the  corrage  of  a  man  is  stired  by  the  myseise  of  him  that 
is  myseysed.  Upon  which  misericorde  folvvith  pite,  in 
parformyng  of  chariteable  werkis  of  mercie,  helping  and 
comforting  him  that  is  misesed.  And  certes,  these  moeven 
men  to  the  misericord  of  Jhesu  Crist,  that  gaf  himself  for 
oure  gult,  and  suffred  deth  for  misericord,  and  forgaf  us 
oure  original  synrie,  and  therby  relessid  us  fro  peyne  of 
helle,  and  amenusid  the  peynes  of  purgatorie  by  penitence, 
and  geveth  grace  wel  to  do,  and  at  the  laste  the  joye  of 
heven,  The  spices  of  misericorde  ben  for  to  love,  and  for 
to  give,  and  eek  for  to  forgive  and  for  to  relesse,  and  for  to 
have  pite  in  herte,  and  compassioun  of  the  meschief  of  his 
even  cristen,  and  eek  chastize  ther  as  neede  is.  Another 
maner  of  remedye  agayns  avarice,  is  resoriable  largesse ; 
but  sothely  here  bihovith  the  consideracioun  of  the  grace 
of  Jhesu  Crist,  and  of  the  temporal  goodes,  and  eek  of  the 
goodes  perdurable  that  Crist  gaf  us,  and  eek  to  have  re- 
membraurice  of  the  deth  that  he  schal  resceyve,  he  noot 
not  whanne  ;  and  eke  he  schal  forgon  al  that  he  hath, 
save  oonly  that  he  hath  dispendid  in  goode  werkes. 

But  for  als  moche  as  some  folk  ben  unresonable,  men 
oughte  to  eachiewe  foly-largesse,  the  whiche  men  clepen 
wast.  Certes,  he  that  is  fool-large,  he  giveth  nought  lus 
catel,  but  he  leseth  his  catel.  Sothely,  what  thing  that  h* 
giveth  for  vayriglorie,  as  to  mynstrals,  and  to  folk  for  to 
bere  his  renoun  in  the  world,  he  hath  synne  therof,  and 
noon  almes  ;  certes,  he  lesith  foule  his  goodes,  that  sekith 
with  the  gift  of  his  good  no  thing  but  synne.  He  is  like 
to  an  hors  that  sekith  rather  to  drynke  drovy  watir,  and 


652  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

trouble,  than  for  to  drinke  watir  of  the  welle  that  ia 
deer.  And  for  as  moche  as  thay  give  ther  as  thay  sell u Id 
not  give,  to  hem  appendith  thilke  malisoun  that  Crist  sehaJ 
give  at  the  day  of  doom  to  hem  that  schal  be  dampned. 

De  gula. 

After  avarice  cometh  glotenye,  which  is  expresse  eki 
agayns  the  coinaundeinent  of  God.  Glotenye  is  unre- 
sonable  and  desordeyned  coveytise  to  ete  and  to  drynke. 
This  synne  corruptid  al  this  world,  as  is  wel  schewed  in  the 
synne  of  Adam  and  of  Eva.  Loke  eek  what  saith  seint 
Poul  of  glotouns :  many,  saith  he,  gon,  of  whiche  I  have 
ofte  said  to  yow,  and  now  I  say  it  wepyng,  that  thay  ben 
thenemyes  of  the  cros  of  Crist,  of  whiche  thende  is  deth,  and 
of  whiche  here  wombeishere  God  and  here  glorie;  in  cori- 
fusioun  of  hem  that  so  saveren  ertheljr  thinges.  He  that  is 
usauiit  to  this  synne  of  glotonie,  he  ne  may  no  synne  with- 
storide,  he  moste  be  in  servage  of  alle  vices,  for  it  is  the 
develes  horde,  ther  he  hideth  him  inne  and  resteth.  This 
synne  hath  many  spices.  The  flrste  is  dronkenes,  that  is 
thorrible  sepulture  of  mannes  resoun  ;  and  therefore  whan 
man  is  di'onken,  he  hath  lost  his  resoun  ;  and  this  is  dedly 
synne.  But  schortly,  whan  that  a  man  is  not  wont  to  strong 
drinkc1,  and  peraventure  ne  knowith  not  the  strengthe  of 
the  drynk,  or  hath  feblesse  in  his  heed,  or  hath  travaylcd 
tlmrgh  whiche  he  drynkith  the  more,  and  be  sodeynly 
caught  with  drynke,  it  is  no  dedly  synne,  but  venial.  The 
secounde  spice  of  glotenie  is,  whan  the  spirit  of  a  man  wex- 
ith  al  trouble  for  drurikenesse,  and  bireveth  him  his  witte 
arid  his  discressioun.  The  thridde  spice  of  glotouns  is,  when 
a  man  devoureth  his  mete,  and  hath  no  rightful  maner  of 
etyng.  The  ferthe  is,  whan  thurgh  the  grete  abundaunce 
of  his  mete,  the  humours  in  his  body  been  distemprid. 
The  nfte  is,  forgetfulnes  by  to  moche  drinking,  for  which  a 
man  somtyme  forgetith  by  the  morwe  what  he  dide  at  eve, 
or  on  the  night  bifore. 

In  other  maner  ben  distinct  the  spices  of  glotonye,  after 
seint  Gregory.  The  firste  is,  for  to  ete  or  drynke  byfore 
tyme  to  ete.  The  secound  is,  whan  man  giveth  him  to  del- 
icate mete  or  drinke.  The  thridde  is,  wharine  man  takith 
to  moche  therof  over  mesure.  The  ferthe  is,  curiosite,  with 
gret  entent  to  make  and  apparayle  his  mete.  The  lifte  is, 
for  to  ete  to  gredely.  These  ben  the  fyve  fyngers  of  the 
develes  hand,  by  whiche  he  drawith  folk  to 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  553 


Remedium  contra  gulam, 

Agayns  glotonye  the  rainedie  is  abstinence,  as  saith  Ga- 
lien  ;  but  that  hold  I  nought  meritorie,  if  he  do  it  oonly 
for  the  hele  of  his  body.  Seint  Austyn  wol  tliat  abstinence 
be  don  for  vertu,  and  with  pacience.  Abstinence,  he  saith; 
is  litil  worth,  but  if  a  man  have  good  wille  therto,  and  but 
it  be  enforced  by  pacience  and  by  charite,  and  that  men 
doon  it  for  Goddes  sake,  and  in  hope  to  have  the  blisse  of 
heven.  Tlie  felawes  of  abstinence  ben  attemperaunce,  that 
holdith  the  mene  in  alle  thinges  ;  eek  schame,  that  es- 
chiewith  al  dishoneste ;  suffisaunce,  that  seeketh  noon 
riche  metes  ne  drynkes,  ne  doth  no  force  of  to  outrageous 
apparaillyng  of  mete  ;  mesure  also,  that  restreyneth  by  r  - 
son  the  dislave  appetit  of  etyng  ;  sobernes  also,  that  re- 
streyneth the  outrage  of  drinke  ;  sparing  also,  that  re- 
sereyneth  the  delicat  ese  to  sitte  longe  at  mete,  wh  rfore 
som  folk  stonden  of  here  owne  wille  to  ete,  because  they 
wol  ete  at  lasse  leysir. 

De  luxurin. 

After  glotonye  thanne  cometh  leccherie,  for  these  two 
gy nnes  ben  so  neih  cosyns,  that  ofte  tyme  thay  wol  not  de- 
parte.  Unde  Paul  us  ad  Ephes.,  n'tlitt-  inebriari  vino  in 
quo  est  hixurift,  etc.  God  wot  this  synne  is  f ull displesaunt 
thing  to  God,  for  he  sayde  himself,  Do  no  leccherie.  And 
therfore  he  putte  gret  peyne  agayn  this  synne.  For  in  the 
olde  lawe,  if  a  womman  thral  were  take  in  this  synne,  sche 
scholde  be  beten  with  staves  to  the  deth  ;  and  if  sche  were 
a  gentilwomman,  sche  schulde  be  slayn  with  stoons  ;  arid 
if  sche  were  a  bisschoppis  doughter,  sche  schulde  be  brent 
by  Goddfc  comaundement.  Fortherover,  for  the  synne  of 
leccherie  God  dreinte  al  the  world  at  the  diluvie,  and  after 
that  he  brent  fyve  citees  with  thonder  layt,  and  sonk  hem 
into  helle. 

Now  let  us  thanne  speke  of  thilke  stynkyng  synne  of 
Jeccherie,  that  men  clepen  advoutry,  that  is  of  weddid  folk, 
that  is  to  sayn,  if  that  oon  of  hem  be  weddid,  or  elles  bothc. 
Seint  Johan  saith,  that  advouterers  schuln  be  in  helle  in 
watir  brennyng  of  fuyr  and  of  brimston  ;  in  fuyr  for  the 
leccherie,  in  brimston  for  the  stynk  of  her  ordure.  Certis 
the  brekyng  of  this  sacrament  is  an  horrible  thing  ;  it  was 
inukid  of  God  himself  in  Paradis,  and  confermed  of  Jhesu 
Crist,  as  witnesseth  seint  Muthew  ;  a  man  schall  lete  fader 
and  mooder,  and  take  him  to  his  wif,  and  thay  schul  ben 
two  in  oon  tteisch.  This  sacrament  bitokeneth  the  knyt. 


854  THE  CANTERBURY  TALE& 


tyng  togicler  of  Crist  and  of  holy  chirche.  And  nat  oonly 
that  God  forbad  advotrie  in  dede,  but  eek  he  coiuaunded, 
that  thou  scholdest  not  coveyte  thy  neyhebors  wif.  In  this 
heste,  seith  seint  Austyii,  is  forboden  al  maner  coveytise  to 
do  leccherie.  Lo  what  seith  seint  Mathew  in  the  Gospel, 
that  who  so  seth  a  womman,  to  coveytise  of  his  lust,  he 
hath  dooii  leeehery  with  hir  in  his  herte.  Here  may  ye  se, 
that  nought  oonly  the  dede  of  this  syniie  is  forboden,  but 
39k  the  desir  to  do  that  synne.  This  cursed  syrme  annoy- 
eth  grevously  hem  that  it  haunten ;  and  first  to  here  soule, 
for  he  obligith  it  to  synne  and  to  pyne  of  the  deth  that  is 
perdurable  ;  unto  the  body  annoyeth  it  grevously  also,  for 
it  dreyeth  him  and  wastith  him,  and  schent  him,  and  of 
his  blood  he  makith  sacrifice  to  the  devel  of  helle  ;  it  wast- 
ith eek  his  catel  and  his  substaunce.  And  certes,  if  that  it 
be  a  foul  thing  a  man  to  waste  his  catel  on  wommen,  yit  is 
it  a  fouler  thing,  whan  that  for  such  ordure  wommen  dis- 
pende  upon  men  here  catel  and  here  substaunce.  This 
synne,  as  saith  the  prophete,  byreveth  man  and  womman 
her  good  fame  and  al  here  honour,  and  it  is  ful  pleas- 
aunt  to  the  devel ;  for  therby  wynneth  he  the  moste  pray 
of  this  world.  And  right  as  a  marchaurit  deliteth  him 
most  in  chaffare  that  he  hath  most  avauntage  of,  right  so 
delitith  the  feend  in  this  ordure. 

This  is  the  other  hond  of  the  devel,  with  fyve  fyngres, 
to  cacche  the  poeple  to  his  vilonye.  The  firste  fynger  is 
the  foule  lokyng  of  the  foule  womman  arid  of  the  foule  man, 
that  sleth  right  as  a  basiliskoc  sleth  folk  by  the  venym  of 
his  sight ;  for  the  coveytise  of  even  folwith  the  coveytise  of 
the  herte.  The  secounde  fynger  is  the  vileynes  touchinge 
in  wikkid  mariere.  Arid  therfore  saith  Salomon,  that  who 
so  touchith  and  handelith  a  womman,  he  farith  lik  him 
that  handelith  the  scorpioun,  that  styngith  and  sodeinly 
sleeth  thurgh  his  envenemynge  ;  or  as  who  so  touchith 
warm  picche.  it  schent  his  fyngres.  The  thridde  is  foule 
wordes,  that  farith  lik  fuyr,  that  right  anooii  brenneth  the 
herte.  The  fertile  is  the  kissyng  ;  and  trewely  he  were  a 
greet  fool  that  wolde  kisse  the  mouth  of  a  brennyng  oven 
or  of  a  forneys  ;  and  more  fooles  ben  thay  that  kyssen  in 
vilonye,  for  that  mouth  is  the  mouth  of  helle  ;  and  namely 
thise  olde  dotard  fooles  holours,  yit  wol  thay  kisse,  and 
J'ikkere,  and  besien  hemself,  though  thay  may  nought  do.3- 
Certis  thay  ben  like  to  houndes  ;  for  an  hound  whan  he 
«ometh  to  a  roser,  or  by  other  bussches,  though  he  may 

32  kisse  . . .  nought  do.  The  Harl.  Ms.,  supported  by  the  Lansd.  Ms.,  reads 
Lissf,  though  than  may  nought  <!<>  ami  smater  hem.  The  reading  lu  tlie  text, 
which  is  that  of  Tyrwhitt,  seems  to  me  better. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  555 

nought  pisse,  yet  wit  he  heve  up  his  leg  and  make  a  coun- 
tenaunce  to  pisse.  And  for  that  many  man  weneth  lie 
may  not  synne  for  no  licorousnes  that  he  doth  with  his  wif, 
certis  thatoppinioun  is  fals  ;  God  wot  a  man  may  sle  him- 
salf  with  his  owne  knyf,  arid  make  himself  dronke  of  his 
oughne  tonne.  Certis,  be  it  wif,  or  child,  or  eny  worldlv 
thing,  that  he  lovyth  biforn  God,  it  is  his  mauinet,  and  he 
is  an  ydolastre.  Man  sehulde  love  his  wyf  1  y  discrescioun, 
paciently  and  atteniperelly,  and  thanne  is  sche  as  it  were 
his  suster.  The  fyfte  fynger  of  the  develes  hond,  is  the 
stynkynge  dede  of  leccherie.  Certes  the  fyve  fyrigres  of 
glotonye  the  devel  put  in  the  wombe  of  a  man  ;  and  his 
fyve  fyngres  of  lecchery  bygripeth  him  by  the  reynes,  for  to 
throwe  him  into  the  fourneys  of  helle,  there  as  they  schuln 
have  the  fuyr  and  the  wormes  that  ever  schal  lasten,  and 
wepyng  and  wayling,  and  scharp  hunger  and  thurst,  and 
grislines  of  develes,  that  schul  al  to-tere  hem  withoute  re- 
spit  and  withouten  eride.  Of  leccherie,  as  I  sayde,  sourdren 
divers  spices:  as  fornicacioun,  that  is  bitwen  man  and 
womman  that  ben  nought  maried,  and  this  is  dedly  synne, 
and  against  nature.  Al  that  is  enemy  and  destruccioun  to 
nature,  is  agayns  nature.  Par  fay  the  resotm  of  a  man 
tellith  him  wel  that  it  is  dedly  synne,  for  als  moche  as  God 
forbad  leccherie.  And  seint  Poule  gevith  hem  that  regne 
that  is  due  to*  no  wight  but  hem  that  doori  synne  dedly. 
Another  synne  of  lecchery  is,  for  to  bireve  a  mayden  of  liir 
maydenhode  ;  for  he  that  so  doth,  certes  he  casteth  a  may- 
den  out  of  the  heighest  degre  that  is  in  the  present  lif,  and 
birevith  hir  thilke  precious  fruyt  that  the  book  clepith 
the  hundrid  fruyt, — I  can  geve  it  noon  other  name  in  Eng- 
lisch,  but  in  Latyn  it  is  i-clepid  centtsimus  fructus  (sccun~ 
dutn  Hieronymnm  contra  Jovinianum}.  Certes  he  that  so 
doth,  is  cause  of  many  harmes  and  vilenyes,  mo  than  eny 
man  can  rekene  j  right  as  he  som  tyme  is  cause  of  alle  the 
damages  that  bestis  doon  in  the  feeld,  that  brekith  the 
hegge  of  the  closure,  thurgh  which  he  destroyeth  that  may 
not  be  restored  ;  for  certes  no  more  may  maydenhode  be 
restored,  that  an  arm,  that  issmyten  fro  the  body,  retourne 
agayn  to  waxe  ;  sche  may  have  mercy,  this  wot  I  wel.  if 
sche  have  wille  to  do  penitence,  but  never  schal  it  be  but 
that  sche  nas  corrupt.  And  al  be  it  so  that  I  have  spoke 
Komwhat  of  advoutre.  yit  is  it  good  to  speke  of  mo  perils 
that  longen  to  advoutrc-,  for  to  esehiewe  that  foule  synne. 
Advoutrie,  in  Latyn,  is  for  to  sayn,  approaching  of  other 
marines  bed,  thorugh  the  which  tho  that  whilom  were  oon 
fleisch,  abandone  here  bodyes  to  other  persones.  Of  this 
synne,  as  saith  the  wise  man,  many  harmes  cometh  there* 


556  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

of ;  first,  brekyng  of  faith  ;  and  certes  faith  is  the  keye  of 
cristendorn,  and  whan  that  faith  is  broke  and  lorn, 
sothely  cristendom  is  lorn,  arid  storit  veyn  and  withouten 
fruyt.  This  synne  is  eek  a  theef,  for  thefte  is  generally  to 
speke  to  reve  a  wight  his  thing  agayns  his  wille.  Certis, 
this  is  the  foulest  thefte  that  may  be,  whan  a  woininan 
Stelith  hir  body  from  hire  housbonde,  and  giveth  it  to  hire 
holour  to  defoule  hire,  and  stelith  hir  soule  fro  Crist,  arid 
gevith  it  to  the  devel.  This  is  a  fouler  thefte  than  for  to 
breke  a  chirche  and  stele  chalises,  for  these  advouterers 
breke  the  temple  of  God  spirituelly,  and  stelen  the  vessel  of 
grace,  that  is  the  body  and  the  soule  ;  for  which  Jhesu 
Crist  schal  destroyen  hem,  as  saith  seint  Poule.  Sothely 
of  this  thefte  doubtyd  gretly  Joseph,  whan  that  his  lordes 
wyf  prayde  him  of  vilonye,  whan  he  saide,  ''  Lo.  rny  lady, 
how  rny  lord  hath  take  to  me  under  my  warde  al  that  he 
hath  in  this  world,  rie  no  thing  of  his  power  is  oute  of  my 
power,  but  oonly  ye  that  ben  his  wyf  ;  and  how  schuld  I 
do  tharine  this  wikkidnes,  and  synne  so  horribly  agayns 
Ged,  and  my  Lord?  God  it  forbede  ! "  Alas!  al  to  litel 
is  such  trouthe  now  i-founde.  The  thridde  harm  is  the 
filthe,  thurgh  which  thay  breken  the  comauridement  of 
God,  arid  defoule  the  auctour  of  here  matrirnonye,  that  is 
Crist.  For  certis,  in. so  rnoche  as  the  sacrament  of  manage 
•s  so  noble  arid  so  digne,  so  rnoche  is  it  the  gretter  synne 
for  to  breke  it ;  for  God  makid  mariage  in  Paradis  in 
thestat  of  innocence,  to  rnultiplie  mankynde  to  the  service 
of  God,  and  therfore  is  the  brekyng  therof  the  more  grev- 
ous.  of  which  breking  corneth  fals  heires  ofte  tyrnes,  that 
wrongfully  occupien  mennes  heritage  ;  and  therfore  wolde 
Crist  putte  hem  out  of  the  regne  of  heven,  that  is  heritage 
to  goode  folk.  Of  this  breking  cometh  eek  ofte  tyme,  that 
folk  unwar  wedden  or  synnen  with  her  kyrirede ;  arid 
namely  these  harlottis,  that  haunten  bordels  of  these  foule 
wommeri,  that  mowe  be  likened  to  a  comunegonge,  where- 
as men  purgen  her  entrayles  of  her  ordure.  vVhat  sa,y  we 
eke  of  putours,  that  lyven  by  the  orrible  synne  of  putrie, 
and  constreyne  wymmen,  ye,  som  tyme  his  oughne  wyf  or 
his  child,  as  don  these  baudes,  toyelde  hem  a  certeyn  rente 
of  here  bodily  putrie  ?  certes,  these  ben  cursede  syriries. 
Understoride  eek  that  avoutrie  is  set  gladly  in  the  ten  com- 
aundements  bitwixe  manslaughter  and  thefte,  for  it  is  the 
grettest  thefte  that  may  be,  for  it  is  thefte  of  body  and 
goule,  arid  it  is  lik  to  homicidie,  for  it  kerveth  a-tuo  hem 
that  first  were  makid  oon  fleisch.  And  therfore  by  the  olde 
lawe  of  God  thay  scholde  be  slayn,  but  natheles,  by  the 
law*  of  Jhesu  Crist,  that  is  the  lawe  of  pite,  whan  he  sayde 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  557 


to  the  womman  that  was  founde  in  advoutri,  and  schulde 
have  ben  slayn  with  stoones  aftir  the  wille  of  the  Jewes, 
as  was  her  law,  "  Go,"  quod  Jhesu  Crist,  "  and  wilrie  no 
more  to  do  synne  ;  "  sothely,  the  vengeance  of  avouteryeis 
awardid  to  the  peyne  of  helle,  but  if  he  he  destourbed  by 
penitence.  Yit  ben  ther  mo  spices  of  this  cursed  synne,  as 
whan  that  oon  of  hem  is  religious,  or  ellis  bothe,  or  for  folk 
that  ben  entred  into  ordre,  as  sub-dekin,  or  dekin,  or  prest, 
or  hospitalers  ;  and  ever  the  higher  that  he  be  in  ordre, 
the  gretter  is  the  synne.  The  thinges  that  gretly  aggreg- 
gith  her  synne,  is  the  brekyng  of  here  avow  of  chastite, 
whan  thay  resceyved  the  ordre  ;  and  fortherover  is  soth, 
that  holy  ordre  is  chefe  of  alle  the  tresor  of  God.  and  is  a 
special  signe  and  mark  of  chastite,  to  schewe  that  thay  ben 
joyned  to  chastite,  which  that  is  the  moste  precious  lif  that 
is.  And  eek  these  ordred  folk  ben  specially  tytled  to  God, 
and  of  the  special  meyne  of  God  ;  of  whiche  whan  thay 
don  dedly  synne,  thay  ben  the  special  traytours  of  God  arid 
of  his  poeple,  for  thay  lyven  of  the  poeple  to  praye  for  the 
people,  and  whil  thay  ben  suche  traytours  here  prayer 
avayleth  not  to  the  poeple.  Prestis  ben  aungels,  as  by  the 
dignite  of  here  misterie  ;  but  for  soth  seint  Foul  saith,  that 
Sathanas  transformeth  him  in  an  aungel  of  light.  Sothely, 
the  prest  that  hauntith  dedly  synne,  he  may  be  likened  to 
the  aungel  of  derknes,  transformed  into  the  aungel  of  light ; 
and  he  semeth  aungel  of  light,  but  for  sothe  he  is  aiingil  of 
derknes.  Suche  prestes  ben  the  sones  of  Helie,  as  schewith  in 
the  book  of  Kinges,  that  thay  were  the  sones  of  Belial,  that 
is,  the  devel.  Belial  is  to  say,  withoute  juge,  and  so  faren 
thay  ;  thay  thynke  hem  fre,  arid  ban  no  juge,  no  more 
than  hath  a  fre  bole,  that  takith  which  cow  that  him  liketh 
in  the  to  tin.  So  faren  thay  by  wommen  ;  for  right  as  a  fre 
bole  is  y-nough  for  al  a  toun,  right  so  is  a  wikked  prest 
corrupcioun  y-nough  for  al  a  parisch,  or  for  al  a  contray. 
Tiiese  prestes,  as  saith  the  book,  ne  conne  not  ministere 
the  mistery  of  presthode  to  the  poeple,  rie  God  ne  knowe 
thay  not  ;  thay  holde  hem  nought  apayed,  as  saith  the 
book,  of  soden  fleissh  that  was  to  hem  offred,  but  thay 
iooke  by  force  the  fleissch  that  is  raw.  Certes,  so  these 
schrewes  holde  hem  not  appayed  with  rosted  fleissh  and 
sode  ileissh,  with  whiche  the  poeple  feeden  hem  in 
gret  reverence,  but  thay  wil  have  raw  fleisch  of  folkes 
wyves  and  here  doughtres.  And  certes,  these  wommen 
that  consenten  to  here  harlotrie,  don  gret  wrong  to  Crist 
and  to  holy  chirche,  and  to  alle  halwes,  and  to  alle  soules, 
for  thay  bireven  alle  these  hem  that  schulde  worschipo 
Christ  and  holy  chirche  and  praye  for  cristen  soules.  And 


558  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


therfore  ban  suche  prestis,  and  here  lemmans  eeke  that  con- 
senten  to  here  leccherie,  the  malisoun  of  al  the  court  cris- 
tian,  til  thay  come  to  amendement.  The  thridde  spice  of 
advoutry  is  som  tyme  bitwix  a  man  and  his  wif,  and  that 
is,  whan  thay  take  noon  reward  in  her  assembling  but 
only  to  the  fleischly  delit,  as  seith  seint  Jerom,  and  ne 
rekke  of  no  thing  but  that  thay  be  assemblid  bycause  that 
they  ben  maried ;  al  is  good  y-nough  as  thinkith  hem. 
But  in  suche  folk  hath  thedevel  power,  assaith  the  aungel 
Raphael  to  Thoby,  for  in  here  assembly ng,  thay  putten 
Jhesu  Crist  out  of  her  herte,  and  given  hemself  to  alle 
ordure.  The  ferthe  spice  is  the  assemble  of  hem  that  ben 
of  here  kynrede,  or  of  hem  that  ben  of  oon  afflnite, 
or  elles  with  hem  with  whiche  here  fadres  or  here  kyn- 
rede han  deled  in  the  synne  of  leccherie ;  this  synne 
makith  hem  like  houndes,  that  taken  noon  heede  cf 
kynrede.  And  certes,  parenteal  is  in  tuo  maneres,  eyther 
gostly  or  fleisshly.  Gostly,  as  for  to  dele  with  her  gossib ; 
for  right  so  as  he  that  engeridrith  a  child,  is  his  fleisshly 
fader,  right  so  is  his  godfader  his  fader  espirituel ;  for 
which  a  womman  may  in  no  laasse  synne  assemble  with 
hir  gossib,  than  with  hire  oughne  fleischly  fader  or  brother. 
The  fifte  spice  is  thilke  abhominable  synne,  of  which  that 
no  man  unnethe  oughte  to  speke  ne  write,  natheles  it  is 
openly  rehersed  in  holy  wryt.  But  though  that  holy  writ 
speke  of  horrible  synne,  certes  holy  writ  may  not  be  de- 
fouled,  no  more  than  the  sonne  that  schyneth  on  a  donge- 
hul.33  Another  synne  apperteneth  tolecchery,  that  cometh 
in  sleping,  and  this  synne  cometh  ofte  to  hem  that  ben 
maydenes,  and  eek  to  hem  that  ben  corrupte ;  and  this 
synne  men  clepen  pollucioun,  that  cometh  in  foure  maners  , 
sbm  tyme  it  cometh  of  languisschynge  of  the  body,  for  the 
humours  ben  to  ranke  and  to  abundaunt  in  the  body  of 
man  ;  som  tyme  of  infirmite,  for  feblenesse  of  the  vertu  re- 
tentyf,  as  phisik  maketh  menciouri  ;  and  som  tyme  for 
surfete  of  mete  and  drynke  ;  som  tyme  of  viloins  thoughtes 
that  ben  enclosed  in  mannes  mynde  whan  he  gothe  to 
?lepe,  which  may  not  be  withouten  synne  ;  for  which  man 
must  kepe  him  wisely,  or  elles  may  men  synne  grevously. 

Remedium  contra  luxuriant. 

Now  cometh  the  remedye  agens  lecchery,  and  that  is 
generally  chastite  of  wikkedhede  and  continence  that 
restreyneth  alle  the  disordeigne  moevynges  that  comen 

33  a  dongehul.    The  Lansd.  As.  reads  on   a  mexen,  aud  Tjrwhitton  tke 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  559 


of  fleischly  talentes ;  and  ever  the  gretter  meryt  schal  be 
ban  that  most  restreyneth  eschaufynges  of  ordure  of  this 
synne  ;  and  this  is  in  tuo  rnaneies;  that,  is  to  sayn, 
chastite  of  manage,  and  chastite  of  widewhtde.  Now 
schalt  thou  uriderstonde,  that  niatrimoigne  is  leful  assein- 
blynge  of  man  and  wommari,  that  resceyven  by  virtu  of 
this  sacrement  the  bond  thurgh  which  thay  may  not  be 
departid  in  al  here  lif,  that  is  to  say,  while  thay  lyven 
bothe.  This,  as  saith  the  boke,  is  a  ful  gret  sacrement  i 
God  makid  it  (as  I  have  said)  in  Paradis,  and  wolde  him- 
self be  born  in  manage  ;  and  for  to  halwen  mariage  he  was 
at  the  weddyrig  Avheras  he  turnede  watir  into  wyn.  which 
was  the  fime  miracle  that  he  wrought  in  erthe  biforn  his 
disciples.  The  trewe effect  of  mariage  clensith  fornicacioun, 
and  replenischith  holy  chirche  of  good  lynage,  for  that  is 
the  ende  of  mariage,  and  it  chaungith  dedly  synne  into 
venyal  synne  bituixe  hem  that  ben  v.eddid,  and  maketh 
the  hertes  al  one,  as  wel  as  the  bodyes.  Tliis  is  verray 
mariage  that  was  first  blessed  by  God,  er  that  the  synne 
bigan,  whan  naturel  lawe  was  in  his  right  poynt  in  Para- 
dis ;  arid  it  was  ordeyned,  that  oon  man  schulde  have  but 
oon  wommari,  and  oon  wornman  butoori  man,  as  saith  seint 
Augustyn,  by  many  resouns.  First,  for  mariage  is  figured 
bitwise  Crist  and  holy  chirche  ;  another  is,  for  a  man  is 
heed  of  awomman  (algateby  ordinaunce  it  schulde  be  so)  ; 
for  if  a  wominan  had  mo  men  than  oon,  than  schulde  sche 
have  mo  hedes  than  oon,  arid  that  were  an  horrible  thing 
biforn.  God ;  and  eek  a  wommari  rnyghte  nought  please 
many  folk  al  at  oones ;  and  also  ther  ne  schulde  never  be 
pees  and  rest  among  hem,  for  everich  wolde  aske  his 
oughue  thing.  And  fortherover,  no  man  schulde  knowe 
his  oughne  engendrure,  lie  who  schulde  have  his  heritage, 
and  the  womman  scholde  be  the  lasse  loved  fro  the  tyme 
that  sche  were  joyned  to  many  men. 

Now  conieth  how  that  a  man  schulde  bere  him  with  his 
wif,  and  namely  in  tuo  thinges,  that  is  to  sayn,  in  suffer- 
aurice  and  in  reverence,  and  that  schewed  Crist  when  he 
made  firste  wommari.  For  he  ne  made  hire  not  of  the  heed 
of  Adam,  for  sche  schulde  riot  to  gret  lordschipe  have  ;  for 
ther  as  the  womman  hath  the  maistry,  sche  makith  to 
moche  disaray  ;  ther  nedith  noon  ensample  of  this,  the  ex- 
perience that  we  have  day  by  day  oughte  suffice.  Also 
certes,  God  ne  made  nought  womman  of  the  foot  of  Adam, 
for  sche  ne  scholde  nought  be  holden  to  lowe,  for  sche  can 
not  paciently  suflre.  But  God  made  womman  of  the  ribbe 
of  Adam,  for  womman  schulde  be  felawe  unto  man.  Man 
fchulde  bere  him  to  his  wif  iu  faith,  in  trouthe,  and  in  love  ; 


560  TEE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


as  saith  seint  Poule,  that  a  man  schulde  love  his  wif,  as 
Crist  loved  holy  chirche,  that  loved  it  so  wel  that  he  deyed 
for  it ;  so  schulde  a  man  for  his  \vyf.  if  it  were  nesde. 

Now  how  that  a  woniman  schulde  be  subject  to  hir 
housbonde,  that  tellith  seint  Peter,  iij°  c°  ;  first  in  obedi- 
ence. And  eek,  as  saith  the  decre,  a  womman  that  is  a  wif, 
as  longe  as  sche  is  a  wif,  sche  hath  noon  auctorite  to  swere 
ne  to  bere  witnesse,  without  leve  of  hir  housbonde,  that  is 
hir  lord  ;  algate  he  schulde  be  so  by  resoun.  Sche  schulde 
eek  serve  him  in  al  honeste,  and  ben  attempre  of  hir  array. 
I  wot  wel  that  thay  schulde  sette  here  entent  to  please  her 
housebondes,  but  nought  by  here  queyntise  of  array.  Seint 
Jerom  saith,  thai  wyves  that  ben  arrayed  in  silk  aud  in 
purpre,  ne  mowe  nought  clothe  hem  in  Jhesu  Crist.  Loke 
what  saith  saint  Johan  eek  in  the  same  matier.  Seint 
Gregori  saith  eek,  that  no  wight  sekith  precious  clothing 
ne  array,  but  oonly  for  veynglorie  to  ben  honoured  the 
more  biforn  the  poeple.  It  is  a  gret  folly,  a  womman  to 
have  fair  array  out-ward,  and  hirsilf  to  ben  foul  in-ward. 
A  wyf  schulde  eek  be  mesurable  in  lokyng,  and  in  beryng, 
and  in  laugheing,  arid  discrete  in  alle  hir  wordes  and  his 
dedes,  and  above  alle  worldly  thinges  sche  schulde  love  hir 
housebonde  with  al  hire  herte,  and  to  him  to  be  trewe  of 
hir  body  ;  so  schoide  an  housebonde  eeke  ben  trewe  to  hir 
wif  ;  for  sith  thatai  the  body  is  the  housebondes,  so  schulde 
here  herte  ben,  or  elles  there  is  bitwixe  hemtuo,  as  in  that, 
no  parfyt  mariage.  Thanne  schal  men  understoride,  that 
for  thre  thinges  a  man  and  his  wyf  mowe  fleischly  assemble. 
The  firste  is,  in  enterit  of  engendrure  of  children,  to  the  ser- 
vice of  Grod,  for  certis  that  is  the  cause  fynal  of  matrimoyne. 
The  secouiide  cause  is,  to  yelden  everych  of  hem  his  dette 
unto  other  of  his  body  ;  for  neyther  of  hern  hath  power  of 
his  oughne  body.  The  thridde  is,  for  to  eschiewe  leccherie 
and  vilenye.  The  ferthe  for  sothe  is  dedly  synne.  As  to 
the  firste,  it  is  meritory  ;  thesecounde  also,  for,  as  saith  the 
decre,  that  sche  hath  merit  of  chastite,  that  yeldith  to  hir 
housebonde  the  dette  of  hir  body,  ye  though  it  be  agayn 
hir  likyng  and  the  lust  of  hir  hert.  The  thridde  maner  is 
venial  synn^ ;  and  trewly,  scarsly  may  eny  of  these  be 
withoute  venial  synne,  for  the  corrupcioun  and  for  the 
delit.  The  ferthe  'maner  is  for  to  understonde,  as  if  thay 
assemble  oonly  for  amorous  love,  and  for  noon  of  the  for- 
sayde  causes,  but  for  to  accomplise  thilke  brennynge  delyt, 
thay  rekke  never  how  ofte,  sothely  it  is  dedly  synue  ;  and 
yit,  with  sorwe,  some  folk  wole  more  peyae  hem  for  to 
£oon,  than  to  her  appetit  sum'seth. 

The  secounde  mu,ner  of  chastite  is  to  ben  a  clene  widewe- 


THE  Pti&SOMSS  TALE.  561 


and  to  eschiewe  the  embrasynges  of  men,  and  deeiren  the 
embrasynges  of  Jhesu  Crist.  These  ben  tho  that  han  ben 
wyves,  arid  han  forgon  here  housebondes,  and  eek  womnien 
that  han  doon  leccherie,  and  be  relieved  by  penitence. 
And  certis,  if  that  a  wyf  couthe  kepe  hir  al  ehast,  by  li- 
cence of  hir  housebonde,  so  that  sche  geve  non  occasioun 
that  lie  agilt,  it  were  to  hir  a  gret  merit.  Thise  maner 
wyininen,  that  observeri  chastite,  moste  be  clene  in  herte 
as  wel  as  in  body,  and  in  thought,  and  mesurable  in  cloth- 
ing and  in  countenaunce,  abstinent  in  etyngand  drynkyng, 
in  speche  and  in  dede,  and  thanne  is  sche  the  vessel  or  the 
boyst  of  the  blessed  Magdaleyne,  that  fulfillith  holy  chirche 
ful  of  good  odour.  The  thridde  maner  of  chastite  is  vir- 
ginite,  and  it  bihoveth  that  sche  be  holy  in  herte.  and  clene 
of  body,  and  thanne  is  sche  spouse  of  Jhesu  Crist,  and  sche 
is  the  lif_of  aungels  ;  sche  is  the  preysyng  of  this  world,  arid 
sche  is  as  these  martires  in  egalite ;  sche  hath  in  hir  that 
tongue  may  nought  telle.  Virginite  bar  oure  Lord  Jhesu 
Crist,  and  virgine  was  himselve. 

Another  remedy  agayns  leccherie  is  specially  to  with- 
drawe  suche  thinges  as  given  occasioun  to  thilk  viloriye  ; 
as  in  ease,  and  etyng,  and  drj'nkyng  ;  for  certes,  whan  the 
pot  boylith  strongely,  the  beste  remedye  is  to  withdrawe 
the  fuyr.  Sleping  eek  lorige  in  greet  quiete  is  also  a  greet 
norice  unto  leccherie. 

Another  remedye  agayns  leccherie  is,  that  a  man  or  a 
womman  eschiewe  the  companye  of  hem  by  whiche  he 
doutith  to  be  tempted  ;  for  al  be  it  so  that  the  dede  be 
withstonde,  yit  is  ther  gret  temptacioun.  Sothely  a  whit 
wal,  although  it  brenne  not  fully  by  stikyng  of  a  candel, 
yet  is  the  wal  blak  of  the  leyte.  Ful  ofte  tyme  I  rede,  that 
no  man  truste  in  his  oughne  perfeccioun,  but  he  be  stronger 
than  Sampson,  or  holiere  than  Davyd,  or  wiser  than 
Salomon. 

Now  after  that  I  have  declared  vow  the  seven  ledly 
synnes  as  I  can.  and  some  of  here  braunches,  and  here  rein- 
ed yes,  sothely,  if  I  couthe,  I  wolde  telle  yowthe  ten  com- 
aundementes,  but  so  heigh  a  doctrine  I  leve  to  divines, 
But  natheles,  I  hope  to  God  thay  ben  touchid  in  this  litel 
tretys  everich  of  hem  alle. 

Now  for  as  mocheas  the  secounde  part  of  penitence  stant 
in  confessioun  of  mouth,  as  I  bigan  in  the  first  chapitre,  I 
say,  seint  Austyn  saith,  synne  is  every  word  and  every 
dede,  and  al  that  men  coveyten  agayn  the  lawe  of  Jhesu 
Crist ;  and  this  is  for  to  synne,  in  herte,  in  mouthe,  arid  in 
dede,  by  thy  fyve  wittis,  that  ben  sight,  heeryng,  smellyng, 
tastyng,  or  savoryrig,  of  falyng.  Now  it  is  good  to  under- 


662  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

stonden  the  circumstaunces  that  aggreggen  moche  to  avery 
synne.  Thou  schalt  considre  what  thou  art  that  dost  the 
synne,  wbethir  that  thou  be  mal  or  feinal,  old  other  yong, 
gentil  07-  thral,  fre  or  servaunt,  hool  or  seek,  weddid  or 
sengle,  ordrid  or  unordred,  wys  or  fool,  clerk  or  seculer  ;  if 
sche  oe  of  thy  kyn,  bodily  or  gostly,  or  noon  ;  if  eny  of  thy 
kycTede  have  synned  with  hire  or  noon,  and  many  mo 
thinges. 

That  other  circumstaunce  is,  whether  it  be  don  in  for- 
aicacioun  or  in  advoutry,  or  incest  or  noon,  or  mayden  or 
noon,  in  maner  of  homicide  or  non,  horrible  grete  synne  or 
smale,  and  how  long  thou  hast  continued  in  synne.  The 
thridde  circumstaunce  is  the  place  wher  thou  hast  don 
synne,  whether  in  other  mennes  houses,  or  in  chirchehawe, 
in  chirche  dedicate,  or  noon.  For  if  the  chirche  were  hal- 
owed,  and  man  or  womman  spillid  his  kynde  within  that 
place,  by  way  of  synne  or  by  wykked  temptacioun,  it  is 
enterdited  til  it  be  reconciled  by  the  bischop  ;  and  the  prest 
scholde  be  enterdyted  that  dede  such  a  vilonye  to  terme  of 
al  his  lyf,  and  scholde  no  more  synge  no  masse  ;  and  if  he 
dede,  he  schulde  do  dedly  synne,  at  every  tyme  that  he 
song  masse.  The  ferthe  circumstaunce  is,  by  which  medi- 
atours,  as  by  messagers,  or  for  entysement,  or  for  consente- 
ment,  to  bere  companye  with  felawship  ;  for  many  a 
wrecche,  for  to  bere  companye,  wol  go  to  the  devel  of  helle. 
For  thay  that  eggyn  or  consentyn  to  the  synne,  ben  par- 
teneres  of  the  synne,  and  of  the  dampnacioun  of  the  syn- 
nere.  The  fyfte  circumstaunce  is,  how  many  tymes  that 
he  hath  synned,  if  it  be  in  hismyndo.  and  how  of te  he  hath 
falle.  For  he  that  ofte  fallith  in  synne,  despiseth  the  mercy 
of  God,  and  ericresceth  his  synne,  and  is  unkynde  to  Crist, 
and  lie  waxith  the  more  feble  to  withstoride  synne,  and 
synneth  the  more  lightly,  and  the  latter  arrisith,  and  is  the 
more  eschiew34  to  schrive  him,  and  namely  to  him  that 
hath  ben  his  confessour.  For  whiche  that  folk,  whan  thay 
falle  agayii  to  here  olde  folies,  eyther  they  forletiri  her  con- 
fessours  al  utterly,  or  ellis  thay  departen  here  schrifte  in 
divers  places ;  but  sothely  such  departed  schrifte  hath  no 
mercy  of  God  of  his  synnes.  The  sixte  circumstaunce  is, 
why  that  a  man  synneth,  as  by  which  temptacioun  ;  and 
if  himself  procure  thilke  temptacioun.  or  by  excityng  of 
other  folk  ;  or  if  he  synne  with  a  womman  maugre  hir 
heed  hath  ben  enforced  or  noon,  this  schal  sche  telle,  and 
whether  it  were  for  covey tise  or  for  poverte,  and  if  it  was 
hire  procuryng  or  noon,  and  alle  such  maner  harneys. 

»*  tschicwe.    Tyrwbitt  reads  the  more  slow. 


TI1E  PERSONES  TALE.  568 


The  seventhe  circumstaunce  is,  in  what  maner  he  hath  don 
his  synne,  or  how  that  sche  hath  suffred  that  folk  nan  doon 
to  hire.  The  same  schal  the  man  telle  pleynly,  with  alle 
the  circumstaunces,  and  wliether  he  have  synned  with 
commune  bordeal  wonnnan  or  noon,  or  doon  his  synne  in 
holy  tyme  or  noon,  in  fastyng  tyme  or  noon,  or  biforn  his 
schrifte,  or  after  his  latter  schrifte,  and  hath  peradventure 
broken  therby  his  penaunce  enjoyned  therfor,  by  whos 
help  or  by  whos  counseil,  b  y  sorcery  orby  other  crafte,  al 
moste  be  told.  Alle  these  thinges,  after  thay  be  grete  or 
smale,  engreggen  the  consciens  of  a  man.  And  eek  the 
prest  that  is  the  jugge,  may  the  better  ben  avysed  of  his 
jugement  in  givyngof  thy  penaunce,  and  that  is  after  thy 
contricioun.  For  understonde  wel,  that  after  the  tyme  that 
a  man  hath  defouled  his  baptisme  by  synne,  if  he  wol  come 
to  savacioun,  ther  is  noon  other  wey  but  penitence,  and 
schrifte  of  mouthe,  and  by  satisfacciouri  ;  and  namely  by 
tho  tuo,  if  ther  be  a  confessour  to  which  he  may  schryve 
him,  and  the  thridde  if  he  have  lif  to  parforme  it. 

Thanne  schal  men  loke  it  and  corisidre,  that  if  he  wol 
make  a  trewe  and  a  profitable  confessioun,  ther  moste  be 
foure  condiciouns.  First,  it  moste  ben  in  sorweful  bitter- 
nesse  of  herte,  as  sayde  the  king  Ezechiel  to  God,  I  wol  re- 
membre  me  alle  the  yeres  of  my  lif  in  bitternes  of  myri 
hert.  This  condicioun  of  bitternes  hath  fyve  signes  ;  tho 
first  is,  that  confessioun  moste  be  schamefast,  not  for  to 
covere  ne  hyde  his  synne,  but  for  he  hath  agultid  his  God 
and  defoulid  his  soule.  And  herof  saith  seint  Augustyn, 
the  herte  tremblith  for  schame  of  his  synne,  and  for  he 
hath  gret  schamefastnes  he  is  digne  to  have  gret  mercy  of 
God.  Such  was  the  confessioun  of  the  publican,  thai; 
wolde  nought  heve  up  his  eyghen  to  heven,  for  he  had  of- 
fendid  God  of  heven  ;  for  which  schamefastnes  he  had  anon 
the  mercy  of  God.  And  therfore  seith  seint  Augustyn,  that 
such  schamefast  folk  ben  next  forgevenes  of  remisMOuii. 
The  secounde  signe  is  humilite  of  confessioun  ;  of  which 
saith  seint  Petre,  humblith  yow  under  the  might  of  God  ; 
tl.e  hond  of  God  is  myghty  in  confessioun,  for  therby  God 
forgiveth  the  thy  syiines,  for  he  alone  hath  the  power. 
And  this  humilite  schal  ben  in  herte,  and  in  signe  outward  ; 
for  right  as  he  hath  humilite  to  God  in  his  herte,  right  so 
schulde  he  humble  his  body  out-ward  to  the  prest,  that  sit- 
tith  in  Goddes  place.  For  which  in  no  inanere,  sith  that 
Crist  is  soverayn,  and  the  prest  is  his  mene  and  mediatour 
betwix  Crist  and  the  synner,  and  the  synner  is  the  lasse  as 
by  way  of  resoun,  thanne  schulde  nought  the  confessour 
bitte  as  lowe  as  the  syiinere,  but  the  syniiere  schulde  knele 


664  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


biforn  him  or  at  his  feet,  but  if  maladye  distourbid  it  ;  for 
he  schal  take  no  keep  who  sittith  there,  but  in  whos  place 
that  he  sittith.  A  man  that  hath  trespassed  to  a  lord,  and 
conieth  for  to  axe  him  of  mercy  arid  to  maken  his  accord, 
and  settith  him  douii  anoon  by  the  lord,  men  wolde  holde 
him  outrageous,  and  not  worthy  so  soone  for  to  have  mercy 
ne  remissioun.  The  thridde  signe  is,  that  thy  schrifte 
schulde  be  ful  of  teeris,  if  men  may  wepe  ;  and  if  he  may 
not  wepe  with  his  bodily  eyen,  let  him  wepe  with  his  herte. 
Such  was  the  confessioun  of  seiiit  Petre ;  for  after  that  he 
hadde  forsake  Jhesu  Crist,  he  wente  out  and  wepte  ful  bit- 
terly. The  ferthe  signe  is,  that  he  lette  nought  for  schame 
to  schryve  him  and  to  schewn  his  confessioun.  Such  was 
the  confessioun  of  Magdaleyn,  that  spared  for  no  schame 
of  hem  that  were  at  the  feste  to  go  to  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist 
and  byknowe  to  him  hire  synne.  The  fifte  signe  is,  that  a 
man  or  a  womman  be  obeisaunt  to  resceyve  the  penaunce 
that  him  is  enjoyned.  For  certis  Jhesu  Crist  for  the  gultes 
of  oon  man  was  obedient  to  his  deth. 

The  other  condicioun  of  verray  confessioun  is,  that  it 
hastily  be  doon  ;  for  certes,  if  a  man  had  a  dedly  wounde, 
ever  the  lenger  that  he  taried  to  warisch  himself,  the  more 
wolde  it  corrupte  arid  haste  him  to  his  deth.  arid  eek  the 
wounde  wolde  be  the  worse  to  hele.  And  right  so  fareth 
synne,  that  long  tyme  is  in  a  man  unschewed.  Certes  a 
man  ougiite  soone  schewe  his  synne  for  many  causes  ;  as 
for  drede  of  deth,  that  cometh  sodeinly,  and  not  certeyn 
what  tyme  it  schal  come,  or  ben  in  what  place  ;  and  eek 
the  drecchyng  of  oon  synne  draweth  another  ;  and  eek  the 
lenger  he  tarieth,  the  ferther  is  he  from  Crist.  And  if  he 
abyde  unto  his  laste  day,  skarsly  may  he  schrive  him  or 
remembre  him  of  his  synnes,  or  repente  for  the  grevous 
malady  of  his  deth.  And  for  as  moche  as  he  hath  not  in 
his  lif  herkened  Jhesu  Crist,  whan  he  hath  spoken,  he 
schal  crien  to  Jhesu  Crist  at  his  lante  day,  and  scarsly  woi 
he  herken  him.  And  understonde  that  this  condicioun 
moste  have  foure  thinges.  First  that  thy  schrifte  moste 
ben  purveyed  byforn,  and  avysed.  for  wikked  haste  doth 
no  profyt ;  and  that  a  man  can  schryve  him  of  his  synnes. 
be  it  of  pride  or  of  envye.  and  so  forth  alle  the  spices  and 
the  circumstaunces  ;  and  that  he  have  coniprehenclid  in 
his  mynde  the  nombre  and  the  gretnes  of  his  synne,  and 
how  longe  he  hath  lyen  in  synne  ;  arid  eek  that  he  be  cori- 
trit  of  his  sinnes,  and  in  stedefast  purpos  (by  the  grace  of 
God)  never  eft  to  falle  in  synne  ;  and  eek  that  he  drede 
and  countrewayte  himself,  and  that  he  flee  the  occasiouna 
of  synne,  to  whiche  he  is  enclyned.  Also  that  thou  schalt 


TUB  PERSONES  TALE.  565 

schrive  the  of  alle  thin  synnes  to  oon  man,  and  nat  a  par- 
cel to  oon  man,  and  a  parcel  to  another  man  ;  that  is, 
understonde,  in  entent  to  parte  thy  confessioun  as  for 
schame  or  drede,  for  it  iiys  but  strangelyng  of  thy  soule. 
For  certes,  Jhesu  Crist  is  enterely  al  good,  in  him  is  noon 
imperfeccioun,  and  therforeouther  he  forgiveth  al  parfitely, 
or  elles  never  a  del.  I  say  nought,  if  thou  be  assigned  to 
thy  penitencere  for  certein  synne,  that  thou  art  bounde  to 
schewe  him  al  the  remenaunt  of  thy  synnes,  of  whiehe 
thou  hast  ben  schryven  of  thy  curate,  but  if  it  like  the  of 
thin  humilite  ;  this  is  no  departyng  of  schrifte.  Ne  I  ne 
say  riot,  there  as  I  speke  of  divisioun  of  confessioun,  that 
if  thou  have  licence  to  schryve  the  to  a  discret  and  to  an 
honest  prest,  wher  the  likith,  and  eek  by  the  licence  of 
thy  curate,  that  thou  ne  maist  wel  schrive  the  to  him  of 
alle  thyn  synnes  ;  but  let  no  synne  be  byhinde  untold  as 
fer  as  th&u  hast  remembraunce.  And  whan  thou  schalt 
be  schrive  of  thi  curate,  telle  him  eeke  al  thy  synne  that 
thou  hast  doon  sith  thou  were  last  i-schryviie.  This  is  no 
wikkid  entent  of  divisioun  of  schrifte. 

Also  thy  verrey  schrifte  askith  certeyn  condiciouns- 
First,  tliat  thou  schrive  the  by  thy  fre  wille,  nought  con- 
streyned,  ne  for  schame  of  folk,  ne  for  maladye,  or  such 
thing;  for  it  is  resoun,  that  he  that  trespassith  with  his 
fre  wille,  that  by  his  fre  wille  he  confesse  his  trespas  ;  and 
that  noon  other  man  schal  telle  his  synne  but  himself ;  ne 
he  schal  not  nayte  or  denye  his  synne,  ne  wraththe  him 
with  the  prest  for  his  amonestynge  to  lete  synne.  The 
secouride  condicioun  is,  that  thy  schrifte  be  laweful,  that 
is  to  sayn,  that  thou  that  schrivest  the,  and  eek  the  prest 
that  herith  thy  confessioun,  ben  verrayly  in  the  feith  of 
holy  chirche,  and  that  a  man  be  nought  despaired  of  the 
mercy  of  Jhesu  Crist,  as  Caym  or  Judas.  And  eek  a  man 
moot  accuse  himself  of  his  owne  trespas  and  not  another  ; 
but  he  schal  blame  and  wire  himself  of  his  oughne  malice 
of  his  synne,  and  noon  other.  But  natheless,  if  that  an- 
other man  be  occasioun  or  ellis  enticer  of  his  synne,  or  that 
the  estate  of  a  persone  be  such  thurgh  which  his  synne 
aggreggith,  or  elles  that  he  may  not  playnly  schryve  him 
but  he  telle  the  person  with  which  he  hath  synned,  tlianne 
may  he  telle  it,  so  that  his  entent  be  nought  to  bakbyte 
the  persone,  but  oonly  to  declare  his  confessioun. 

Thow  schalt  nought  eke  make  no  lesyng  in  thy  confes- 
sioun for  humilite,  perad venture  to  sayn  that  thou  hast 
don  synnes  of  whiche  thou  were  never  gulty  ;  as  seint 
Augustyn  saith,  if  thou  bycause  of  humilite  makest  les- 
on  thiself,  though  thou  were  not  in  synne  biforu,  yit 


5C6  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


art  thou  thanne  in  synne  thurgh  thy  lesynges.  Thou 
most  also  schewe  thy  synne  by  thyn  oughne  proper  mouth, 
but  thou  \voxe  dombe,  arid  not  by  no  lettre ;  for  thou  that 
hast  don  the  synne,  thou  schalt  have  the  schame  of  the 
confessioun.  Thou  schalt  nought  peynte  thy  confessioun, 
by  faire  subtil  wordes,  to  cover  the  more  thy  synne ;  for 
thanne  bigilist  thou  thiself,  and  not  the  prest ;  thou  most 
telle  it  platly,  be  it  never  so  foul  ne  so  horrible.  Thou 
schalt  eek  schrive  th  to  a  prest  that  is  discrete  to  couri- 
saile  the  ;  and  thou  sehalt  nought  schryve  the  for  veine- 
glorie,  ne  for  ypocrisie,  ne  for  no  cause  but  oonly  for  the 
doute  of  Jhesu  Crist  and  the  hele  of  thy  soul.  Thou  schalt 
not  eek  renne  to  the  prest  sodeinly,  to  telle  him  lightly 
thy  synne,  as  who  tellith  a  tale  or  a  jape,  but  avysily  and 
with  gret  dcvocioun  ;  arid  generally  schrive  the  ofte  ;  if 
thou  ofte  falle,  ofte  thou  arise  by  confessioun.  And 
though  thou  schryve  the  ofter  than  oories  of  synne  of 
which  thou  hast  ben  schriven,  it  is  the  more  merite  ;  and, 
as  saith  saint  Augustyn,  thou  schalt  have  the  more  lightly 
relessyrig  and  grace  of  God,  bothe  of  synne  and  of  payne. 
And  certes  oones  a  yer  atte  lest  way  it  is  laweful  to  be 
housel yd,  for  sothely  oones  a  yer  alle  thiriges  in  the  erthe 
renovelen. 

De  tertia  parte  penitentice. 

Now  have  I  told  of  verray  confessionn,  that  is  the  sec- 
ounde  partye  of  penitence.  The  thridde  partye  of  pen- 
itence is  satisfaccioun,  arid  that  storidith  generally  in 
almesdede  and  bodily  peyrie.  Now  ben  ther  thre  marier 
of  almesdede  ;  coritricioun  of  herte,  where  a  man  offereth 
himself  to  God  ;  the  secounde  is,  to  have  pite  of  the  de- 
faute  of  his  neighebor;  the  thridde  is,  in  geving  of  good 
counseil  arid  comfort,  gostly  arid  bodily,  where  men  hari 
neede,  and  namely  in  sustenaunce  of  mennes  foode.  Arid 
take  keep  that  a  man  hath  rieede  of  these  thinges  gener- 
ally, he  hath  rieede  of  foode,  of  clothing,  and  of  herberwe, 
he  hath  neede  of  charitable  counseil  and  visityngiri  prison 
and  malady,  and  sepulture  of  his  dede  body.  And  if  thou 
may  riot  visite  the  needeful  with  thy  persorie.  visiteby  thy 
message  and  by  thy  giftes.  These  beri  general  almesses  or 
werkes  of  charite,  of  hem  that  han  temporal  riches  or  dis- 
crecioun  in  couriselynge.  Of  these  werkes  schalt  thou 
hieren  at  the  day  of  doom. 

This  almes  schalt  thou  doon  of  thin  oughne  propur 
thinges,  and  hastily,  and  prively  if  thou  maist ;  but  nathe- 
les,  if  thou  maist  not  do  it  prively,  thou  schalt  nought 


THE  PEBSONES  TALti.  667 


forDere  to  uo  annes,  though  men  se  it,  so  that  it  be  nought 
don  for  thank  of  the  world,  but  oonly  for  thonk  of  Jhesu 
Crist.  For,  as  witness! th  seint  Mathewe,  c°  vto,  a  cite  it>ay 
not  ben  hid  ttiat  is  set  on  a  mountayri,  ne  men  light  not  a 
lanteriie  and  put  it  under  a  buisschel,  but  men  sette  it  on 
a  caudel-stikke,  to  liglite  the  men  in  the  hous  ;  right  so 
schal  youre  light  lighten  biforn  men,  that  they  may  se 
youre  goode  werkes,  and  glorilien  youre  Fader  that  is  in 
heven, 

Kow  as  to  speke  of  bodily  peyne,  it  is  in  prayere,  in 
wakinges,  in  fastynges,  in  vertuous  techiriges.  Uf  orisouns 
ye  schul  understoride,  that  orisouns  or  prayeres,  is  for  to 
seyn,  a  pitous  wil  of  herte,  that  redressith  it  in  God,  and 
expressith  it  by  word  out-ward,  to  remeve  harmes,  and  to 
have  thinges  espirituel  and  durable,  and  som  tyme  tem- 
porel  thinges.  Of  whiche  orisouns,  certes  in  the  orisouii 
of  the  Pater-noster  hath  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist  enclosed 
most  thinges.  Certis  it  is  privileged  of  thre  thinges  in  his 
dignite.  for  whiche  it  is  more  digiie  than  any  other  prayer; 
for  Jhesu  Crist  himself  maked  it ;  and  it  is  schort,  for  it 
schulde  be  coud  the  more  lightly,  and  for  to  withholde  it 
the  more  esily  in  herte,  and  helpe  himselfe  the  oftere  with 
this  orisoun,  and  for  a  man  schulde  be  the  lasse  wery  to 
say  it,  and  for  a  man  may  not  excuse  him  to  lerne  it,  it  is 
so  schort  and  so  easy  ;  and  for  it  comprehendith  in  itself 
alle  goode  prayeres.  The  exposiciouii  of  this  holy  praier, 
that  is  so  excellent  and  so  digne,  I  bitake  to  these  maystres 
of  theology,  save  thus  moche  wol  I  sayn,  whan  thou  pray- 
est  that  God  schulde  forgive  the  thy  gultes  as  thou  for- 
givest  hem  that  they  gulten  to  the,  be  ful  wel  ware  that 
thou  be  not  out  of  charite.  This  holy  orisoun  amenisith 
eek  venial  synne,  and  therfore  it  append! th  specially  to 
penitence. 

This  praier  moste  be  trewely  sayd,  and  in  verray  faith, 
and  that  men  pray  to  God  ordinatly,  discretly,  and  de- 
voutly ;  and  ahvay  a  man  schulde  putte  his  wille  to  be 
subject  to  the  wille  of  God.  This  orisoun  moste  eek  be 
sayd  with  greet  humblesse  and  ful  pure,  and  honestly,  and 
nought  to  the  annoyannce  of  eny  man  or  womman.  It 
most  eek  be  continued  with  the  werkis  of  charite.  It 
avaylith  agayns  the  vices  of  the  soule  ;  for,  as  seith  seirit 
Jerom,  by  fastyng  ben  saved  the  vices  of  ileissch,  and  by 
prayere  the  vices  of  the  soule. 

After  this  thou  schalt  understoride,  that  bodily  payne 
stant  in  wakyng.  For  Jhesu  Crist  saith,  wakith  and 
prayeth,  that  ye  ne  entre  not  into  temptacioun.  Ye  schul 
understonde  also,  that  faetynge  stont  in  thre  thinges,  in 


568  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

forbering  of  bodily  mete  and  drink,  and  in  forberyng  ol 
worldly  jolite,  and  in  forbering  of  worldly  synne  ;  'this  is 
to  sayn,  that  a  man  schal  kepe  him  fro  dedly  synne  in  al 
that  he  may. 

And  thou  schalt  understonde  eek,  that  God  ordeyned 
fastyng,  and  to  fastyng  appurteynen  foure  thinges : 
largesce  to  pover  folk  ;  gladnes  of  hert  espirituel ;  not  to 
ben  angry  ne  annoyed  ne  grucche  for  he  fastith  ;  and  also 
resonable  hour  for  to  ete  by  mesure,  that  is  to  sayn,  a  man 
schulde  not  ete  in  untyme,  ne  sitte  the  lenger  at  his  mele, 
for  he  fastith. 

Thanne  schal  thou  understonde,  that  bodily  peyne 
stant  in  discipline,  or  teching,  by  word,  or  by  writing*,  or 
by  ensample.  Also  in  weryng  of  heires  or  of  "stamyn  or  of 
haberjeons  on  her  naked  fleisch  for  Cristes  sake,  and  suche 
maner  penaunce  ;  but  ware  the  wel  that  such  maner  pe- 
naunce  of  thyn  fleissch  make  nought  thin  herte  bitter  or 
angry,  or  anoyed  of  thiself ;  for  better  is  to  cast  away  thin 
hayre  than  for  to  caste  away  the  swetnes  of  oure  Lord 
Jhesu  Crist.  And  therfore  seith  seint  Poule,  clothe  yow, 
as  thay  that  ben  chosen  of  God  in  herte,  of  misericorde, 
debonairete,  sufferaunce,  and  such  maner  of  clothing,  of 
the  which  Jhesu  Crist  is  more  appayed  than  of  haires  or  of 
hauberkis.35 

Than  is  discipline  eek  in  knokking  on  the  brest,  in 
scourgyng  with  yerdes,  in  knelynges,  in  tribulaciouns,  in 
suffring  paciently  wronges  that  ben  doon  to  him  and  eek 
in  pacient  sufferaunce  of  maledies,  or  lesyng  of  worldly 
catel,  or  of  wif,  or  of  child,  or  of  othir  frendes. 

Tharme  schalt  thou  understonde  whiche  thinges  des- 
tourben  penaunce,  and  this  is  in  foure  thinges  ;  that  is 
drede,  schame,  hope,  and  wanhope,  that  is,  der-peracioun. 
And  for  to  speke  first  of  drede,  for  which  he  weneth  that 
he  may  suffre  no  penaunce,  ther  agayris  is  remedye  for  to 
thinke  that  bodily  penaunce  is  but  schort  and  litel  at  the 
regard  of  the  peyne  of  helle,  that  is  so  cruel  and  so  long; 
that  it  lastith  withouten  ende. 

Now  agains  the  schame  that  a  man  hath  to  schry  ve  him. 
and  namely  these  ypocrites,  that  wokle  be  holde  so  parfyt, 
that  thay  have  no  neede  to  schry  ve  hem  ;  agayns  that 
schame  schulde  a  man  thinke,  that  by  way  of  resoun  he 
that  hath  not  ben  aschamed  to  do  foule  thinges,  certis  him 
oughte  not  be  aschamed  to  doon  faire  thinges  and  goode 
thinges,  and  that  is  confessioun.  A  man  scholde  eek 
thinke,  that  God  seeth  and  knoweth  alle  thy  thoughtee 
and  thy  werkes;  to  him  may  no  thing  be  hyd  ne  covered. 

K  huubcrkis.    Tyrwhitt  reads  habergeons. 


THE  PEESONES  TALE.  569 


Men  schulde  eek  rernembre  hein  of  the  schame  that  is  to 
come  at  the  day  of  doom,  to  hem  that  ben  nought  penitent 
and  schriven  in  this  present  lif ;  for  alle  the  creatures  in 
heven,  and  in  erthe,  and  in  helle,  schuJn  seen  apartly  al 
that  he  hydith  in  this  world. 

Now  for  to  speke  of  hem  that  ben  so  negligent  and  slowe 
to  schryve  hem  ;  that  stant  in  tuo  maneres.  That  oon  is, 
that  he  hopitli  for  to  lyve  longe,  and  for  topurchace  moche 
riches  for  his  delyt,  and  thanne  he  wol  schrive  him  ;  and, 
as  he  saith,  he  may,  as  him  seinith,  tymely  y-nough  come 
to  schrifte  ;  another  is,  the  surquidrie  that  he  hath  in 
Cristes  mercy.  Agains  the  firste  vice,  he  schal  thinke  that 
oure  lif  is  in  no  sikernesse,  and  eek  that  al  the  riches  in 
this  world  ben  in  adventure,  and  passeri  as  a  schadowe  on 
the  wal  ;  and,  as  saith  seint  Gregory,  that  it  apperteyneth 
to  the  grete  rightwisnes  of  God,  that  never  schal  the  peyrie 
styrrte  of  hem,  that  never  wolde  withdrawe  hem  fro  synne 
her  thankes,  but  ay  continue  in  synne  ;  for  thilke  perpetuel 
wille  to  doon  synne  schul  thay  have  perpetuel  peyne. 

Wannope  is  in  tuo  maneres.  The  firste  wanhope  is,  in 
the  mercy  of  Crist ;  that  other  is,  that  thay  thinke  thay 
mighte  nought  longe  persever  in  goodnesse.  The  firste 
wanhope  cometh  of  that  he  demyth  that  he  synned  so 
highly  and  so  ofte,  and  so  lorige  layn  in  syrine,  that  he 
schal  not  be  saved.  Certis  agens  that  cursed  wanhope 
schulde  he  thenke,  that  the  passiouri  of  Jliesu  Crist  is  more 
strong  for  to  unbynde,  than  synne  is  strong  for  to  bynde. 
Agains  the  secounde  wanhope  he  schal  thinke,  that  als  ofte 
as  hefallith,  he  may  arise  agayn  by  penitence  ;  and  though 
he  never  so  longe  have  leyn  in  synne,  the  mercy  of  Crist  is 
alwayredy  to  resceyve  him  to  mercy.  Agains  the  wanhope 
that  lie  thinkith  he  schulde  not  longe  perse vere  in  goodnesse, 
he  schal  thinke  that  the  febles  of  the  devel  may  no  thing 
doon,  but  men  wol  suffre  him  ;  and  eek  he  schal  have 
strengthe  of  the  help  of  God,  and  of  al  holy  chirche,  and  of 
the  proteccioun  of  aungels,  if  him  list. 

Thanne  schal  men  understonde,  what  is  the  fruyt  of 
penaunce  ;  and  after  the  word  of  Jhesu  Crist,  it  is  the 
endeles  blisse  of  heven,  ther  joye  hath  no  contrariete  of  wo 
rie  of  penaunce  ne  grevance  ;  ther  alle  harmes  ben  passed 
of  this  present  lif  ;  Ther  as  is  the  sikernesse  fro  the  peyne  of 
helle  ;  there  as  is  the  blisftil  compagnye,  that  rejoycen  hem 
evermo  everich  of  otheres  joye  ;  ther  as  the  body  of  man, 
that  whilom  was  foule  and  derke,  is  more  clere  than  the 
son ne  ;  ther  as  the  body  of  man  that  whilom  was  seek 
and  frel.  feble  and  mortal,  is  immortal,  and  so  strong  and 
po  hool,  that  ther  may  no  thing  empeijv  it  ;  ther  nyg 


570  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


neyther  honger,  ne  thurst,  ne   colde,  but  every  soule  r« 
plenisched  with  the  sight  of  the  parfyt  knowyng  of  God 
This  blisful  regne  may  nieii  purchace  by  poverte  espirituel, 
and  the  glorie  by  lowenes,  the  plente  of  joye  by  hunger 
and  thurst,  and  reste  by  travaile,  and  the  lif  by  deth  and 
mortificacioun  of  synne  ;  to  which  life  he  us  bringe,  that 
bought  us  with  his  precious  blood.     Amen. 

Preces  de  Chauceres.™ 

Now  pray  I  to  yow  alle  that  heren  this  litel  tretis  or 
reden  it,  that  if  ther  be  any  thing  in  it  that  likes  hern,  that 
therof  thay  thanke  oure  Lord  Jhesn  Crist,  of  whom  pro- 
cedith  alle  witte  and  al  goodnes ;  and  if  ther  be  eny  thing 
that  displesith  hem,  I  pray  hem  that  thay  arette  it  to  the 
defaute  of  iiiyn  uriconnyng,  and  not  to  my  wille,  that  wolde 
fayn  have  sayd  better  if  I  hadde  connyng ;  for  the  book 
saith,  al  that  is  writen  for  oure  doctrine  is  writen.  Wher- 
fore  I  biseke  yow  mekely  for  the  mercy  of  God  that  ye  pray 
for  me,  that  God  have  mercy  on  me  and  forgeve  me  my 
piltes,  and  nameliche  my  translaciouns  and  of  endityng  in 
worldly  vanitees,  whiche  I  revoke  in  my  retracciouns,  as 
is  the  book  of  Troyles,  the  book  also  of  Fame,  the  book  of 
twenty-five  Ladies,  the  book  of  the  Duchesses,  the  book  of 
seint  Valentines  day  and  of  the  Parliment  of  briddes,  the 
Tales  of  Caunturbury,  alle  thilke  that  sounen  into  synne, 
the  book  of  the  Leo,  and  many  other  bokes,  if  thay  were 
in  my  mynde  or  remembraunce,  and  many  a  song  and 
many  a  leccherous  lay,  of  the  whiche  Crist  for  his  grete 
mercy  forgive  me  the  synnes.  But  of  the  translacioun  of 
Boce  de  consolacioun,  and  other  bokes  of  consolacioun, 
and  of  legend  of  lyvesof  seints,  andOmelies,  and  moralitees 
and  devocioun,  that  thanke  I  oure  Lord  Jhesu  Crist,  an(* 
his  moder,  and  alle  the  seintes  in  heven,  bisekyng  hem 
that  thay  fro  hennysforth  unto  my  lyves  ende  sende  m« 
grace  to  biwayle  my  gultes,  and  to  stuclien  to  the  savacioun 
of  my  soule,  and  graunte  me  grace  and  space  of  verraj 
repentaunce,  penitence,  confessioun,  and  satisfaccioun,  to 

SB  Preces  de  Chaucerfs.  I  have  printed  the  celebrated  prayer  which  con- 
cludes the  Canterbury  Tales  exactly  as  it  stands  in  the  Harleian  Manuscript. 
In  some  manuscripts  it  is  given  as  "though  it  were  the  conclusion  of  tlie  tale 
or  discourse  of  the  Parson,  but  in  others,  as  here,  it  is  distinctly  given  to 
Chaucer  himself.  It  varies  much  in  the  different  manuscripts,  and  thore  are 
many  circumstances  about  it  which  it  seems  impossible  to  explain  satisfac- 
torily. Tyrwhitt  attempts  to  get  over  a  part  of  the  difficulty  by  supposing 
that  the  praver  was  really  the  conclusion  of  the  Parson's  Tale,  and  that  the 
middle  portion,  Wherfnre  I  l>e.*?kf  i/riir  .  .  .  the  srinfi-x  in  heren.  including  the 
lit  of  Chaucer's  works,  was  added  subsequently  by  a  scribe  who  chose  to  put 
the  prayer  into  Chaucer's  own  mouth,  and  wished  to  maka  tbe  poet  apologize 
for  the  looseness  of  some  of  his  writings. 


THE  CUCKOW  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE.      571 


dori  in  this  present  lif,  thurgh  the  benigne  grace  of  him, 
that  is  king  of  kynges  and  prest  of  alle  prestis,  that  bought 
us  with  his  precious  blood  of  his  hert,  so  that  I  moot  be 
oon  of  hem  at  the  day  of  doom  that  schal  be  saved  :  qui 
cum  Patre  et  Spiritu  sancto  vivis  et  reynas  Deus  peromnia 
iecula.  Amen. 


THE  CUCKOW   AND   THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


Chaucer  dreameth  that  hee  heareth  the  cuckow  and  the  nightingale  contmd 
for  excellence  in  singing. 


THE  god  of  love,  and  benedicite, 
How  mighty  and  how  great  a  lord  is  he ! 
For  he  can  make  of  low  hertes  hie, 
And  of  high  low,  and  like  for  to  die, 
And  hard  hertes  he  can  maken  free. 

He  can  make  within  a  little  stound, 

Of  sicke  folke  hole,  fresh,  and  sound, 

And  of  hole  he  can  make  seke, 

He  can  bind  and  unbinden  eke, 

That  he  woll  have  bounden  or  unbound. 

To  tell  his  might  my  wit  may  not  suffice, 
For  he  can  make  of  wise  folke  full  nice, 
For  he  may  do  all  that  he  woll  devise, 
And  lither  folke  to  destroyen  vice, 
And  proud  hertes  he  can  make  agrise. 

Shortly,  all  that  ever  he  woll  he  may, 
Against  him  dare  no  wight  say  nay, 
For  he  can  glad  and  greve  whom  him  liketh, 
And  who  that  he  woll  lougheth  or  siketh, 
And  most  his  might  he  shedeth  ever  in  May. 

For  every  true  gentle  herte  free, 

That  with  him  is  or  thinketh  for  to  be, 

Again  May  now  shall  have  some  stering 

Or  to  joy  or  els  to  some  mourning, 

Jn  no  season  so  much,  as  thinketh  me. 


572  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

For  whan  they  may  here  the  birds  sing. 
And  see  the  floures  and  the  leaves  spring, 
That  bringeth  into  hir  remembraunce 
A  manner  ease,  niedled  with  grevaunce, 
And  lustie  thoughts  full  of  great  longing. 

And  of  that  longing  coiimieth  hevinesse, 
And  thereof  groweth  of  great  sicknesse, 
And  for  lacke  of  that  that  they  desire, 
And  thus  in  May  ben  hertes  set  on  fire, 
So  that  they  brennen  forth  in  great  distresse. 

I  speake  this  of  feeling  truly 

If  I  be  old  and  unlusty, 

Yet  I  have  felt  of  the  sicknesse  through  May, 

Both  hote  and  cold,  and  accesse  every  day, 

How  sore  ywis  there  wote  no  wight  but  I. 

I  am  -so  shaken  with  the  fevers  white, 

Of  all  this  May  sleepe  I  but  a  lite, 

And  also  it  is  riot  like  to  me 

That  any  herte  should  sleepy  be 

In  whom  that  Love  his  firy  dart  woll  smite. 

But  as  I  lay  this  other  night  waking, 
I  thought  how  lovers  had  a  tokening, 
And  among  hem  it  was  a  commune  tale 
That  it  were  good  to  here  the  nightingale 
Rather  than  the  leud  cuckow  sing. 

And  than  I  thought,  anon,  as  it  was  day, 
I  would  go  some  where  to  assay 
If  that  I  might  a  nightingale  here, 
For  yet  had  I  none  heard  of  all  that  yere, 
And  it  was  tho  the  third  night  of  May. 

And  anone,  as  I  the  day  aspide, 

No  lenger  would  I  in  my  bed  abide, 

But  unto  a  wood  that  was  fast  by 

I  went  forth  alone  boldely, 

And  held  the  way  downe  by  a  brooke  side, 

Till  I  came  to  a  laund  of  white  and  green, 

So  faire  one  had  1  never  in  been, 

The  ground  was  green,  ypoudred  with  daisie, 

The  floures  and  the  greves  like  hie, 

AH  greene  and  white,  was  nothing  els  seene, 


THE  CUCKOW  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE.      573 


There  sate  I  downe  among  the  faire  flours, 
Arid  saw  the  birds  trip  out  of  hir  bours, 
There  as  they  rested  hem  all  the  night, 
They  were  so  joyfull  of  the  dayes  light, 
They  began  of  May  for  to  done  honours. 

They  coud  that  service  all  by  rote, 
There  was  many  a  lovely  note, 
Some  song  loud,  as  they  had  plained, 
And  some  in  other  manner  voice  yfained, 
And  some  all  out  with  the  full  throte. 

They  proyned  hem  and  made  hern  right  g»y. 
And  daunceden  and  lepten  on  the  spray, 
And  evermore  two  and  two  in  fere, 
Right  so  as  they  had  chosen  hem  to  yere 
In  Feverere  upon  saint  Valentines  day. 

And  the  river  that  i  sate  upon, 
It  made  such  a  noise  as  it  ron, 
Accordaunt  with  the  birdes  armony, 
Me  thought  it  was  the  best  melody 
That  might  ben  yheard  of  any  mon. 

And  for  delite,  I  wote  never  how, 

I  fell  in  such  a  slomber  and  a  swow, 

Nat  all  asleepe,  ne  fully  waking, 

And  in  that  swow,  me  thought,  I  hearde  sing 

The  sorry  bird,  the  leud  cuckow. 

And  that  was  on  a  tree  right  fast  by, 
But  who  was  than  evill  apaid  but  I  ? 
"Now  God,"  quod  I,  "  that  died  on  the  crois, 
Yeve  sorrow  on  thee,  and  on  thy  leud  vois, 
Full  little  joy  have  I  now  of  thy  cry." 

And  as  I  with  the  cuckow  thus  gan  chide, 

I  heard  in  the  next  bush  beside 

A  nightingale  so  lustely  sing 

That  with  her  clere  voice  she  made  ring 

Through  all  the  greerie  wood  wide. 

"  Ah,  good  nightingale,"  quod  I  then, 
"  A  little  hast  thou  ben  too  long  hen, 
For  here  hath  been  the  leud  cuckow, 
And  songeri  songs  rather  than  hast  them* 
I  pray  to  God  evill  tire  her  bren." 


574  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


But  now  I  woll  you  tell  a  wonder  thing, 

As  long  as  I  lay  in  that  swouning, 

Me  thought  I  wist  what  the  birds  ment, 

And  what  they  said,  and  what  was  hir  entent, 

And  of  hir  speech  I  had  good  knowing. 

There  heard  I  the  nightingale  say, 
"  Now  good  cuckow,  go  somewhere  away, 
And  let  us  that  can  singen  dwellen  here, 
For  even*  wight  escheweth  thee  to  here, 
Thy  songs  be  so  elenge,  in  good  fay." 

"What,"  quod  she,  "  what  may  thee  alen  now? 
It  thinketh  me,  I  siug  as  well  as  thou, 
For  my  song  is  both  true  and  plaine, 
And  though  I  cannot  crakell  so  in  vaine, 
As  thou  dost  in  thy  throte,  I  wot  never  how. 

"  And  every  wight  may  understande  mee, 

But,  nightingale,  so  may  they  not  done  thee, 

For  thou  hast  many  a  nice  queint  cry 

I  have  thee  heard  saine,  ocy,  ocy, 

How  might  I  know  what  that  should  be?  " 

"Ah  foole,"  quod  she,  wost  thou  not  what  it  it, 

Whan  that  I  say.  ocy,  ocy  ?  ywis, 

Than  meane  I  that  I  would  wonder  faine, 

That  all  they  were  shamefully  yslaine, 

That  meanen  ought  againe  love  amis. 

"  And  also  I  would  that  all  tho  were  dede 
That  thin ke  not  in  love  hir  life  to  lede, 
For  who  so  that  wol  not  the  god  of  love  serve, 
I  dare  well  say  he  is  worthy  to  sterve, 
And  for  that  skill,  ocy,  ocy,  I  grede.'' 

"  Eye."  quod  the  cuckow,  "  this  is  a  queint  law, 

That  every  wight  shall  love  or  be  to  draw, 

But  I  forsake  all  such  com  pan  ie, 

For  mine  entent  is  not  for  to  die, 

Ne  never  while  I  live  on  Loves  yoke  to  draw  ; 

"  For  lovers  ben  the  folke  that  ben  on  live 
That  most  disease  have,  and  most  unthrive, 
And  most  endure  sorrow,  wo,  and  care, 
And  least  feelen  of  welfare, 
What  ueedeth  it  avenst  trouth  to  strive  ?" 


THE  CUCKOW  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE.      575 

"  What !  "  quod  she,  "  thou  art  out  of  thy  mind  : 
How  might  thou  in  thy  churlenesse  find 
To  speake  of  Loves  servaunts  in  this  wise, 
For  in  this  world  is  none  so  good  servise 
To  every  wight  that  gentle  is  of  kind. 

"  For  thereof  truly  commeth  all  goodnesse, 
All  honour  and  all  gentlenesse, 
Worship,  ease,  and  all  hertes  lust, 
Partite  joy,  and  full  assured  trust, 
Jolitie,  pleasaunce  and  freshnesse, 

"  Lowlyhead,  largesse,  and  curtesie, 
Semelyhead,  and  true  companie, 
Drede  of  shame  for  to  done  amis 
For  he  that  truly  Loves  servaunt  is, 
Were  lother  be  shamed  than  to  die. 

'•  And  that  this  is  soth  that  I  sey, 

In  that  beleeve  I  will  live  and  dey, 

And  cuckow,  so  I  rede  that  thou  do  ywis  ;  " 

''  Than,"  quod  he,  '•  let  me  never  have  blisse, 

If  ever  I  unto  that  couiisaile  obey. 

"  Nightingale,  thou  speakest  wonder  faire, 

But  for  all  that  is  the  sooth  contraire, 

For  love  is  in  yong  folke  but  rage, 

And  in  old  folke  a  great  dotage, 

Who  most  it  useth,  most  shall  enpaire. 

"  For  thereof  cometh  disease  and  hevinesse, 
So  sorrow  and  care,  and  many  a  great  sickuease 
Despite,  debate,  anger,  and  envie, 
Depraving,  shame,  untrust,  and  jelousie, 
Pride,'  mischeefe,  poverty,  and  woodnesse  : 

"  Loving  is  an  office  of  despaire, 

And  one  thing  is  therein  that  is  not  faire, 

For  who  that  getteth  of  love  a  little  blisse, 

But  if  he  be  alway  t  her  with,  ywis, 

He  may  full  soone  of  age  have  his  haire. 

"  And  nightingale,  therefore  hold  thee  nie, 
For  leve  me  well,  for  all  thy  queint  crie, 
If  thou  be  ferre  or  long  fro  thy  make, 
Thou  shalt  be  as  others  that  been  forsake, 
And  than  thou  shalt  hoten  as  doe  1." 


576  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Fie."  quod  she,  "  on  thy  name,  and  on  thee  ! 
The  god  of  love  ne  let  thee  never  ythe, 
For  thou  art  worse  a  thousand  fold  than  wood, 
For  many  a  one  is  full  worthy  and  full  good, 
That  had  be  naught  ne  had  love  ybe. 

"  For  evermore  Love  his  sej-vants  amendeth, 
And  from  all  evill  taches  hem  defendeth, 
And  maketh  hem  to  brenne  right  in  a  fire, 
In  trouth  and  in  worshipfull  desire, 
And  whan  him  liketh,  joy  inough  him  sendeth." 

"  Thou  nightingale,"  he  said,  "  be  still, 
For  Love  hath  no  reason,  but  it  is  will, 
For  oft  time  untrue  folke  he  easeth, 
And  true  folk  so  biterly  he  displeaseth, 
That  for  default  of  courage  he  let  hem  spill. 

"  With  suche  a  lord  wulle  I  never  be, 

For  he  is  blinde  and  may  not  se  ; 

And  when  he  liethe  he  not  ne  when  he  faylethe  j 

In  his  courte  full  seld  trouthe  availethe  ; 

So  dyverse  and  so  wilfull  ys  he." 

Than  tooke  I  of  he  nightingale  keepe, 

How  she  cas:  a  sigh  out  of  her  deepe, 

And  said,  "  Alas,  that  ever  I  was  bore, 

I  can  for  tene  not  say  one  word  more," 

And  right  with  that  word  she  brast  out  to  weepe. 

"Alas,"  quod  she,  "  my  herte  woll  breake, 
To  hearen  thus  this  leud  bird  speake 
Of  Love,  arid  of  his  worshipfull  servise. 
Now  <rod  of  love,  thou  help  me  in  some  wise. 
That  1  may  on  this  cuckow  been  awreake." 

Me  thoght  then  that  I  stert  out  anon, 
And  to  the  broke  I  ran  and  gate  a  ston, 
And  at  the  Cuckow  hertely  I  cast ; 
And  he  for  drede  flie  awey  full  fast, 
And  glad  was  I  when  that  he  was  gon. 

And  evermore  the  Cuckow.  as  he  fley, 
lie  seid,  "  farewell,  farewell,  papyngay  !  ",, 
As  thogh  he  had  skorryd  thoght  of  me  : 
But  ay  I  hunted  him  fro  tre  to  tr" 
Til  h3  was  fer  all  out  of  sight  uwi_y. 


677 


And  than  came  the  nightingale  to  mee, 
And  said,  "  Friend,  forsooth  I  thanke  thee, 
That  thou  hast  liked  me  to  rescow, 
And  one  avow  to  Love  make  I  now, 
That  all  this  May  I  woll  thy  singer  be." 

I  thanked  her,  and  was  right  well  apaied  : 
"  Ye,"  quod  she,  "  and  be  thou  not  dismaied, 
Tho  thou  have  herd  the  cuckow  erst  than  ine, 
For,  if  I  live,  it  shall  amended  be 
The  next  May,  if  I  be  not  alfraied. 

"  And  one  thing  1  woll  rede  thee  also, 

Ne  leve  thou  not  the  cuckow,  ne  his  loves  so, 

For  all  that  he  hath  said  is  strong  lesirig  :  " 

"  Nay,"  quod  I,  "  thereto  shall  nothing  me  bring. 

For  love,  and  it  hath  doe  me  much  wo. 

"  Ye,  use,"  quod  she,  "  this  medicine 

Every  day  this  May  or  thou  dine, 

Go  looke  upon  the  fresh  daisie, 

And  though  thou  be  for  wo  in  point  to  die, 

That  shall  full  greatly  lessen  thee  of  thy  pine. 

"  And  looke  alway  that  thou  be  good  and  trew. 

And  I  woll  sing  one  of  the  songes  new 

For  love  of  thee,  as  loud  as  I  may  crie  :  " 

And  than  she  began  this  song  full  hie, 

"  I  shrew  all  heui  that  been  of  love  untrue." 

And  when  she  had  song  it  to  the  end, 

"  Now  farewell,"  quod  she,  "for  I  mote  wend, 

And  god  of  love,  that  can  right  wel,  and  may 

A  much  joy  send  thee  this  day, 

As  any  lover  yet  he  ever  send." 

Thus  taketh  the  nightingale  her  leave  of  me, 
[  pray  to  God  alway  with  her  be, 
And  joy  of  love  he  send  her  evermore, 
And  shilde  us  fro  the  cuckow  and  his  lore, 
For  there  is  not  so  false  a  bird  as  he. 

Forth  she  flew,  the  gentle  nightingale. 
To  all  the  birds  that  were  in  that  dale, 
And  gate  hem  all  into  a  place  in  fere, 
And  besoughten  hem  that  they  would  here 
Her  disease,  and  thus  began  her  tale. 


678  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  The  cuckow,  well  it  is  not  for  to  hide, 
How  the  cuckow  and  I  fast  have  chide 
Ever  sithen  it  was  day  light, 
I  pray  you  all  that  ye  do  me  right 
On  that  foule  false  unkind  bridde." 

Than  spake  o  bird  for  al,  by  one  assent, 
1 '  This  matter  asketh  good  avisement, 
For  we  ben  birdes  here  in  fere, 
And  sooth  it  i?,  the  cuckow  is  not  here, 
And  therefore  we  woll  have  a  parliment. 

':  And  thereat  shall  the  egle  be  our  lord, 
And  other  peres  that  been  of  record, 
And  the  cuckow  shall  be  after  sent, 
There  shall  be  yeve  the  judgement, 
Or  els  we  shall  finally  make  accord. 

"  And  this  shall  be  without  nay, 
The  morrow  after  saint  Valentines  day, 
Under  a,  maple  that  is  faire  and  grene, 
Before  the  chamber  window  of  the  quene, 
At  Woodstocke  upon  the  grene  lay." 

She  thanked  hem,  and  than  her  leave  toke. 
And  into  an  hanthorne  by  that  broke, 
And  there  she  sate  and  song  upon  that  tr 
"  Terme  of  life  love  hath  withhold  me," 
Lo  loud  that  I  with  that  song  awoke. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULE8. 


v.  1-70 

THE  lyfe  so  short,  the  craft  so  long  to  lerne, 
Th'assay  so  hard,  so  sharp  the  conquering, 
The  dreadful  joy  alway  that  flit  so  yerne. 
All  this  I  mean  by  Love,  that  my  feeling 
Astonieth  with  his  wonderful  werkyng, 
So  sore  y  wis,  that  whan  I  on  him  think, 
Naught  wete  I  wel,  whether  I  fiete  or  sink* 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES.  67S 


For  all  be  that  I  know  not  Love  in  dede, 
Ne  wot  how  that  he  quiteth  folke  hir  hire, 
Yet  happeth  me  fall  oft  in  bookes  rede 
Of  his  myracles,  and  of  his  cruell  ire, 
There  rede  1  well,  he  woll  be  lorde  and  sire  : 
1  dare  not  say  his  strokes  be  sore, 
But  God  save  such  a  lorde,  I  can  no  more. 

Of  usage,  what  for  lust  and  what  for  lore, 

On  bookes  rede  I  of,  as  I  you  told, 

But  wherfore  speake  I  all  this  ?  naught  yore 

Agon,  it  happed  me  to  behold 

Upon  a  booke  was  y  written  with  letters  old, 

And  thereupon  a  certain  thing  to  lerne, 

The  long  day  full  fast  I  radde  and  yerne. 

For  out  of  the  old  fieldes,  as  men  saithe, 
Cometh  al  this  new  corne  fro  to  yere  to  yere, 
And  out  of  old  bookes,  in  good  faithe, 
Cometh  all  this  new  science  that  men  lere, 
But  now  to  purpose,  as  of  this  mattere, 
To  rede  forth  it  gan  me  so  delite, 
That  all  that  day  me  thought  it  but  a  lite. 

This  booke  of  which  I  make  mencion, 
Entitled  was  right  thus,  as  I  shall  tell, 
Tullius  of  the  dreame  of  Scipion  : 
Chapiters  seven  it  had,  of  Heaven  and  Hell, 
And  Earth,  and  soules  that  therein  dwell, 
Of  which  as  shortly  as  I  can  it  treate, 
Of  his  sentence  I  woll  you  sairie  the  greate. 

First  telleth  it,  whan  Scipion  was  come 
In  AfTricke,  how  he  meteth  Massinisse, 
That  him  for  joy,  in  armes  hath  ynome, 
Than  telleth  he  hir  speach  and  all  the  blisse, 
That  was  betwixt  hem  til  the  day  gari  misse, 
And  how  his  auricester  Affrikan  so  dere, 
Gan  in  his  slepe  that  night  til  him  appere. 

Than  telleth  it,  that  from  a  sterrie  place, 
How  Aifrikari  hath  him  Cartage  shewed, 
And  warned  him  before  of  all  his  grace, 
And  said  him,  what  man  lered  eyther  lewde, 
That  loveth  common  profite  well  ithewde, 
He  should  into  a  blissfull  place  wend, 
There  as  the  joy  is  without  any  end. 


580  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


Than  asked  he,  if  folke  that  here  been  deda 
Have  life,  and  dwelling  in  another  place  ? 
And  Affrikan  said  Ye,  without  any  drede, 
And  how  our  present  lives  space 
Ment  but  a  maner  death,  what  way  we  trace, 
And  rightfull  folke,  shull  gon  after  they  die 
To  Heaven,  and  shewed  him  the  Galaxie. 

Than  shewed  he  him  the  little  earth  that  here  is 

To  regard  of  the  Heavens  quantite, 

And  after  shewed  he  hyni  the  nine  speris, 

And  after  that  the  melodie  heard  he, 

That  commeth  of  thilke  speres  thrise  three, 

That  welles  of  musicke  been  and  melodie 

In  this  world  here,  the  cause  of  armonie. 

Than  said  he  him,  sens  Earth  was  so  lite, 
And  full  of  tourment,  and  of  harde  grace, 
That  he  ne  should  him  in  this  world  delite : 
Than  told  he  him,  in  certain  yeres  space, 
That  every  sterre  should  come  into  his  place, 
There  it  was  first,  and  all  should  out  of  mind 
That  in  this  world  is  done  of  all  mankind. 

Then  prayed  him  Scipion,  to  tell  him  all 
The  way  to  come  into  that  Heaven  blisse, 
Arid  he  said  :  "  First  know  thy  selfe  immortall, 
And  loke  aie  besely  that  thou  werche  and  wisse 
To  common  profile,  and  thou  shalt  not  misse 
To  come  swiftly  unto  the  place  dere, 
That  full  of  blisse  is,  and  of  soules  clere. 

"  And  breakers  of  the  law,  soth  to  saine, 
And  likerous  folke,  after  that  they  been  deded, 
Shall  whirle  about  the  world  alway  in  paine 
Till  many  a  world  be  passed  out  of  drede, 
And  than,  foryeven  all  hir  Avicked  dede, 
Than  shullen  they  come  to  that  blisfull  place, 
To  which  to  comen,  God  send  thee  grace." 

The  day  gan  fallen,  and  the  darke  night 
That  reveth  beastes  from  hir  businesse, 
Beraft  me  my  booke  for  lacke  of  light. 
And  to  my  bedde  I  gan  me  for  to  dresse, 
Fulfilled  of  thought  and  besie  heavinesse, 
For  both  I  had  thyng,  which  that  I  n'old, 
And  eke  I  ne  had  that  thing  that  1  wold. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES. 


But  finally  my  spirite  at  last, 
Forweary  of  my  labour  all  that  day, 
Tooke  rest,  that  made  me  to  slepe  fast, 
And  in  my  slepe  I  mette,  as  that  I  say, 
How  Affrikan,  right  in  the  selfe  aray 
That  Scipion  him  saw,  before  that  tide, 
Was  come,  and  stode  right  at  my  beds  side. 

The  wearie  hunter  sleeping  in  his  bedde, 

The  wood  ayen  his  mind  goeth  anone, 

The  judge  dremeth  how  his  plees  he  spedde, 

The  carter  dremeth  how  his  cartes  gone, 

The  rich  of  gold,  the  knight  tights  with  his  fone, 

The  sicke  mette  he  drinketh  of  the  tonne, 

The  lover  mette  he  hath  his  lady  wonne. 

Can  I  not  saine,  if  that  the  cause  were 

For  I  had  radde  of  Affrikan  beforne, 

That  made  me  to  mete  that  he  stood  there, 

But  thus  said  he  :  "  Thou  hast  thee  so  well  borne 

In  looking  of  mine  old  booke  all  to  torne, 

Of  which  Macrobie  raught  not  a  lite, 

That  some  dele  of  thy  labour  would  I  quite." 

Citherea,  thou  blisful  lady  swete, 

That  with  thy  fire  brond  dauntest  whan  thee  lest, 

That  madest  me  this  sweven  for  to  mete, 

Be  thou  my  helpe  in  this,  for  thou  maist  best, 

As  wisely  as  I  seigh  the  north  northwest, 

Whan  I  began  my  sweven  for  to  write. 

So  yeve  me  might  to  rime  it  and  endite. 

This  foresaid  Affrikan  me  hent  anone, 

And  forthwith  him  to  a  gate  brought, 

Right  of  a  parke,  walled  with  grene  stone, 

And  over  the  gate,  with  letters  large  ywrought, 

There  were  verse  ywritten  as  me  thought 

On  either  lialfe,  of  full  great  difference, 

Of  which  1  shall  you  say  the  playne  sentence : 

"  Through  me  men  gon  into  the  blisful  place 
Of  hertes  heale  and  dedly  woundes  cure, 
Through  me  men  gon  into  the  well  of  grace, 
There  grene  and  lusty  May  shall  ever  endure, 
This  is  the  way  to  all  good  a  venture, 
Be  glad  thou  reader,  and  thy  sorrow  off  cast, 
All  open  am  J,  passe  in  and  spede  thee  fast." 


582  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

"  Through  me  men  gon  "  (than  spake  the  other  sidel 
"  Unto  the  mortall  strokes  of  the  speare, 
Of  which  Disdaine  and  Danger  is  the  gide  ; 
There  never  tree  shall  fruit  rie  leaves  beare, 
This  streuie  you  ledeth  to  the  sorrowful  were, 
There  as  the  fish  in  pryson  is  all  dry, 
The  eschewing  is  onely  the  remedy.'' 

These  verses  of  gold  and  asure  y  written  weare, 

Of  which  I  gan  astonied  to  behold, 

Bor  with  that  one  encreased  all  my  feare, 

And  with  that  other  gan  my  herte  to  bolde, 

That  one  me  hette,  that  other  did  me  colde, 

No  wit  had  I  for  errour  for  to  chese, 

To  enter  or  flie,  or  ine  to  save  or  lese. 

Right  as  betwene  adamants  two, 
Of  even  weight,  a  peece  of  yron  set 
Ne  hath  no  might  to  move  ne  to  ne  fro, 
For  what  that  one  may  hale  that  other  let, 
So  fared  I,  that  I  n'ist  where  me  was  bet, 
To  entre  or  leave,  till  Affrikan  my  gide, 
Me  hent  and  shove  in  at  the  gates  wide. 

And  said,  "  It  standeth  written  in  thy  face, 
Thine  errour,  though  thou  telle  it  not  me, 
But  dread  thee  not  to  come  into  this  place, 
For  this  writing  is  nothing  meant  by  thee, 
Ne  by  none,  but  he  Love's  servaunt  bee, 
For  thou  of  love  hast  lost  thy  tast  of  gesse, 
As  sicke  men  hath,  of  swete  and  bitternesse. 

"  But  natheles,  although  thou  be  dull, 
That  thou  canst  not  doe,  yet  mayst  thou  see, 
For  many  a  man  that  may  not  stand  a  pull, 
Yet  liketh  it  him  at  the  wrestlyng  for  to  be, 
And  demeth  yet,  whether  he  doe  bet,  or  he, 
And  if  thou  haddest  connyng  for  t'endite, 
I  shall  thee  shew  matter  of  to  write." 

And  with  that  my  hand  in  his  he  toke  anon, 
Of  which  I  comfort  caught,  and  went  in  fast, 
But  Lord  so  I  was  glad,  and  well  begori, 
For  over  all,  where  I  mine  even  cast, 
Were  trees  clad  with  leaves,  that  aie  shal  last 
Eche  in  his  kind,  with  colour  fresh  and  grene, 
As  emeraude,  that  joy  it  was  to  sene. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULE8.  683 


The  bilder  oke,  and  eke  the  hardy  asshe, 
The  piller  elme,  and  coffre  unto  caraine, 
The  boxe  pipe  tree,  holme  to  whippes  lasshe, 
The  selling  iirre,  the  cipres  death  to  plaine, 
The  shooter  ewe,  the  aspe  for  shaftes  plaine, 
The  olive  of  peace,  and  eke  the  dronken  vine, 
The  victor  palme,  the  laurer  too  divine. 

A  gardein  saw  I  full  of  blosomed  bowis, 
Upon  a  river  in  a  grene  rnede, 
There  as  sweetriesse  evermore  inough  is, 
With  floures  white,  blewe,  yelowe,  and  rede, 
And  cold  welle  streames,  nothing  dede, 
That  swomuien  full  of  sniale  fishes  light, 
With  finnes  rede,  and  scales  silver  bright. 

On  every  bough  the  birdes  heard  I  sing, 

With  voice  of  angell  in  hir  armonie, 

That  busied  hem  hir  birdes  forth  to  bring, 

The  little  pretty  conies  to  hir  play  gan  hie, 

And  further  all  about  I  gan  espie 

The  dredeful  roe,  the  buck,  the  hart,  and  hind, 

Squirrels,  and  beastes  small  of  gentle  kind. 

Of  instruments  of  stringes  in  accorde 
Heard  I  so  play  a  ravishing  swetnesse, 
That  God,  that  maker  is  of  all  and  Lorde, 
Ne  heard  never  better,  as  I  gesse, 
Therewith  a  wind,  unneth  it  might  be  lesse, 
Made  in  the  leaves  grene  a  noise  soft 
Accordant  to  the  foules  song  on  loft. 

The  aire  of  the  place  so  attempre  was, 
That  never  was  ther  grevance  of  hot  ne  cold, 
Ther  was  eke  every  holsome  spice  and  gras, 
Ne  no  man  may  there  wexe  sicke  ne  old, 
Yet  was  there  more  joy  o  thousand  fold, 
Than  I  can  tell  or  ever  could  or  might, 
There  is  ever  fclere  day,  and  never  night. 

Under  a  tree  beside  a  well  I  sey 

Cupide,  our  lorde,  his  arrowes  forge  and  file 

And  at  his  feete  his  bowe  already  lay. 

And  well  his  doughter  tempred  all  the  while 

The  heddes  in  the  well,  with  her  wile 

She  couched  hem  after,  as  they  should  serve 

Some  to  slee,  and  some  to  wound  and  carve. 


584  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Tho  was  I  ware  of  Pleasaunce  anon  right, 
And  of  Array,  Lust,  Beauty,  and  Curtesie, 
And  of  the  Craft,  that  can  and  hath  the  might 
To  don  by  force  a  wight  to  don  folie  : 
Disfigured  was  she,  I  will  not  lie, 
And  by  himselfe,  under  an  oke  I  gesse, 
Sawe  I  Delite,  that  stood  with  Gentlenesse. 

Than  saw  I  Beauty,  with  a  nice  attire, 

And  Youth,  full  of  game  and  jolitee, 

Poole-hardinesse,  Flatterie,  and  Desire, 

Messagerie,  Mede,  and  other  three, 

Hir  names  shall  not  here  be  told  for  me  ; 

And  upon  pillers  great  of  jasper  long, 

I  sawe  a  temple  of  brasse  yfounded  strong. 

And  about  the  temple  daunced  alway 
Women  inow,  of  which  some  there  were 
Faire  of  hemself,  and  some  of  hem  were  gay, 
In  kirtils  all  disheveled  went  they  there, 
That  was  their  office  ever,  fro  yere  to  yere ; 
And  on  the  temple,  saw  I  white  and  faire, 
Of  doves  sitting  many  a  thousand  paire. 

And  before  the  temple  doore  full  soberly, 
Dame  Peace  sat,  a  curtaine  in  her  honde, 
And  her  beside  wonder  discretly, 
Dame  Pacience,  sitting  there  I  fonde, 
With  face  pale,  upon  an  hill  of  sonde, 
And  alther  next,  within  and  without, 
Behest  arid  Arte,  and  of  her  folke  a  rout. 

Within  the  temple,  of  sighes  hote  as  fire, 
I  heard  a  swough  that  gan  about  ren, 
Which  sighes  were  engendred  with  desire, 
That  made  every  herte  for  to  bren 
Of  newe  flambe,  arid  well  espied  I  then, 
That  all  the  cause  of  sorowes  that  they  drie 
Come  of  the  bitter  goddess  Jalousie. 

The  god  Priapus  saw  I  as  I  went 

Within  the  temple,  in  soverain  place  stond, 

In  such  array,  as  when  the  asse  him  shent 

With  crie  by  night,  and  with  sceptre  in  honde  ; 

Full  busilie  men  gan  assay  and  fonde, 

Upon  his  hedde  to  set  of  sondrie  hewe, 

Grarlandes  full  of  freshe  floures  newe. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES.  585 

And  in  a  privie  corner,  in  disport 
Found  I  Venus,  and  her  porter  Richesse, 
That  was  full  noble  and  hautoin  of  her  port ; 
Darke  was  that  place,  but  after  lightnesse, 
I  sawe  a  lite,  urinethes  it  might  be  lesse, 
And  on  a  bed  of  golde  she  lay  to  rest, 
Till  that  the  hote  Sonrie  gari  to  west. 

Her  gilte  heeres  with  a  gold  threde 
Ybound  were,  untressed  as  she  lay, 
And  naked  from  the  brest  unto  the  hede, 
Men  might  her  see,  and  sothly  for  to  saie, 
The  remnaunt,  covered  well  to  my  paie, 
Right  with  a  little  kerchefe  of  Valence, 
There  was  no  thicker  clothe  of  defence. 

The  place  gave  a  thousand  savours  soote, 
And  Bacchus  god  of  wine  sate  her  beside. 
And  Ceres  next,  that  doeth  of  hunger  boote, 
And  as  I  said,  amiddes  lay  Cupide, 
To  whom  on  knees,  the  yonge  folkes  cride, 
To  be  their  helpe,  but  thus  I  let  her  lie, 
And  farther  in  her  temple  I  gan  espie. 

That  in  dispite  of  Diane  the  chaste, 

Full  many  a  bowe  ybroke  hing  on  the  wall, 

Of  maidens,  such  as  gone  hir  times  waste 

In  her  service:  arid  painted  over  all, 

Of  many  a  storie,  of  which  I  touch  shall 

A  fewe,  as  of  Calixte,  and  Athalant, 

And  many  a  maid,  of  which  the  name  I  want. 

Semyramus,  (Jandaoe,  and  Hercules. 
Biblis,  Dido,  Tisbe,  and  Pirai.ius, 
Tristram,  Isoude,  Paris,  and  Achilles, 
Helaine,  Cleopatre,  and  Troilus, 
Syllci,  and  eke  the  mother  of  Romulus, 
All  these  were  paynted  on  that  other  side, 
And  all  hir  love,  and  in  what  plite  they  dide. 

Whan  I  was  eommen  ayen  into  the  place 
That  I  of  spake,  that  was  so  soote  and  grene« 
Forth  walked  I  tho,  my  selven  to  solace, 
Tho  was  I  ware,  where  there  sate  a  quene, 
That  as  of  light  the  sommer  Sunne  shene 
Passeth  the  sterre,  right  so  over  mesure, 
She  fa.'rer  was  than  any  creature. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


And  in  a  launde,  upon  an  hill  of  floures, 
Was  set  this  noble  goddesse  Nature, 
Of  branches  were  her  halles  arid  her  boures 
Ywrought,  after  har  craft  and  her  inesure, 
Ne  there  n'as  foul  that  coineth  of  engendrure, 
That  there  ne  were  prest  in  her  presence, 
To  take  hir  dome  and  yeve  hir  audience. 

For  this  was  on  sainct  Valentines  day, 
Whan  every  foule  coineth  to  chese  hir  make. 
Of  every  kind  that  men  thinke  may, 
And  that  so  huge  a  noise  gan  they  make, 
That  earth,  sea,  and  tree,  and  every  lake, 
So  full  wa>.  that  unneth  there  was  space 
For  me  to  stand,  so  full  was  all  the  place. 

And  right  as  Alain,  in  the  Plaint  of  Kinde, 
Deviseth  Nature  of  such  araie  and  face, 
In  suche  aray  men  might  her  there  finde. 
This  noble  empresse  full  of  all  grace, 
Bad  every  foule  take  hir  owne  place, 
As  they  were  wont  alway,  fro  yere  to  yere, 
On  sainct  Valentines  day,  standen  there. 

That  is  to  say,  the  foules  of  ravine 

Were  highest  set,  and  than  the  foules  smale, 

That  eaten  as  that  nature  would  ericline, 

As  worme  or  thing,  of  which  I  tell  no  tale, 

But  water  foule  sat  lowest  in  the  dale. 

And  foules  that  liveth  by  seed  sat  on  the  grerie, 

And  that  so  many,  that  wonder  was  to  sene, 

There  might  men  the  royall  egle  find, 

That  with  his  sharpe  looke  perseth  the  Son, 

And  other  egles  of  a  lower  kind, 

Of  which  that  clerkes  well  devisen  con  ; 

There  was  the  tyrant  with  his  fethers  don, 

And  grene,  I  mean  the  goshauke  that  doth  pine 

To  birdes,  for  his  outragious  ravine. 

The  gentle  faucon,  that  with  his  fete  distreineth 
The  kings  hand,  the  hardy  sperhauke  eke, 
The  quailes  foe,  the  merlion  that  peineth 
Himself  full  oft  the  larke  for  to  seke, 
There  was  the  dove,  with  her  even  meke, 
The  jelouH  swan,  ayenst  his  deth  that  singeth, 
The  oule  eke.  that  of  deth  the  bode  bringeth. 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES.  587 

The  crane,  the  geaunt,  with  his  trompes  soune, 
The  thief  the  chough,  and  the  chattririg  pie, 
The  scorning  jaye,  the  eles  foe  the  heroune, 
The  false  lapwing,  full  of  trecherie, 
The  stare,  that  the  counsaile  can  bewrie, 
The  tame  ruddorke,  and  the  coward  kite, 
The  cocke,  that  horiloge  is  of  thorpes  lite. 

The  sparowe  Venus'  son,  and  the  nightingale 
That  clepeth  forth  the  fresh  leaves  new, 
Tho  ewalowe,  inurdrer  of  the  bees  sinale 
That  niaken  honie  of  floures  fresh  of  hew, 
The  wedded  turtell,  with  his  herte  true, 
The  pecocke,  with  his  angel  fethers  bright, 
The  fesaunt,  scorner  of  tho  c-oi  ke  by  night. 

The  waker  gose,  tho  cuckowe  ever  unkind. 

The  popingey,  full  of  delicasy, 

The  drake,  stroier  of  his  owne  kind, 

The  storke,  wreker  of  aduoutry, 

The  hote  conneraunt,  ful  of  glotony, 

The  ravin  and  the  crowe,  with  her  voice  of  care 

The  throstell  olde,  arid  the  frostie  feldefare. 

What  should  I  say  ?  of  foules  of  every  kind, 
That  in  this  world  have  fethers  and  stature, 
Men  might  in  that  place  assembled  find, 
Before  that  noble  goddess  of  Nature, 
And  eche  of  them  did  his  busie  cure, 
Benignely  to  chese,  or  for  to  take 
By  her  accorde,  his  formell  or  his  make. 

But  to  the  point :  Nature  held  on  her  hond, 
A  formell  egle,  of  shape  the  gentillest, 
That  ever  she  among  her  workes  fond, 
The  most  benigne,  and  eke  the  goodliest, 
In  her  was  every  vertue,  at  his  rest 
So  farforth,  that  Nature  herselfe  had  blisse, 
To  looke  on  her,  and  oft  her  beeke  to  kisse. 

Nature,  the  vicar  of  the  almightie  Lord, 

That  hote,  colde,  hevie,  light,  moist,  and  drie, 

Hath  knit,  by  even  number  of  accord, 

In  easie  voice,  began  to  speake  and  say, 

"  Foules,  take  heed  of  my  sentence  I  pray, 

And  for  your  own  ease,  in  furdring  of  your  need: 

As  fast  as  I  may  speak,  I  will  me  speed. 


588  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


"  Ye  knowe  wel,  how  on  Saint  Valentines  day, 
By  my  statute,  and  through  my  governance, 
Ye  do  chese  your  makes,  and  after  flie  away 
With  hem,  as  I  pricke  you  with  pleasaunce, 
But  nathelesse,  as  by  rightfull  ordinaunce, 
May  I  not  let,  for  all  this  world  to  win, 
But  he  that  most  worthiest  is  shall  begin. 

"  The  tercell  egle,  as  ye  know  full  wele, 

The  foule  royall,  above  you  all  in  degre, 

The  wise  and  worthie,  the  secret  true  as  stele, 

The  which  I  have  formed,  as  ye  may  see, 

In  every  parte  as  it  best  liketh  mee, 

It  nedeth  not  his  shape  you  to  devise, 

He  shall  first  chese,  and  spekeri  in  his  gise. 

"  And  after  him,  by  order  shall  ye  chese, 
After  your  kind,  everiche  as  you  liketh, 
And  as  your  hap  is,  shall  ye  win  or  lese 
But  which  of  you  that  loves  most  entriketh, 
God  sende  him  her  that  sorest  for  him  siketh  :" 
And  therewithall,  the  tercell  gan  she  call, 
And  said,  "  My  sonue,  the  choise  is  to  thee  fall 

"  But  nathelesse,  in  this  condicion 

Must  be  the  choice  of  everiche  that  is  here, 

That  she  agree  to  his  election, 

Who  so  he  be,  that  should  been  her  fere, 

This  is  our  usage  alway,  fro  yere  to  yere, 

And  who  so  may  at  this  time  have  his  grace, 

In  blisfull  time  he  came  into  this  place." 

With  hed  enclined,  and  with  ful  humble  chere, 
This  roial  tercell  spake,  and  taried  nought, 
"  Unto  my  soveraine  lady,  and  not  my  fere, 
I  chose  and  chese,  with  will,  herte,  and  thought, 
The  formell  on  your  hand,  so  wel  y  wrought, 
Whose  I  am  all,  arid  ever  will  her  serve, 
Doe  what  her  luste,  to  doe  me  live  or  sterve. 

"  Besechyng  her  of  me>cy,  and  of  grace, 

As  she  that  is  my  ladie  soveraine, 

Or  let  me  die  here  present  in  this  place, 

For  certes  long  may  I  not  live  in  paine, 

For  in  my  herte  is  corven  every  vaine, 

Having  regard  onely  to  my  trouth, 

My  dere  herte,  have  on  my  wo  some  routh. 


THE  'A SSEMBL  Y  OF  FO  ULES.  589 

"  And  if  I  be  found  to  her  untrue, 
Disobeisaunt,  or  wilfull  negligent, 
Avauntour,  or  in  processe  love  a  newe, 
I  pray  to  you  this  be  my  judgement, 
That  with  these  fouJes  I  be  all  to  rent, 
That  ilke  day  that  she  me  ever  find 
To  her  untrue,  or  in  my  gilte  unkind. 

*'  And  saith  that  none  loveth  her  so  well  as  I, 
Although  she  never  of  love  me  behet, 
Than  ought  she  be  mine  through  her  mercy, 
For  other  bonde  can  I  none  on  her  knet : 
For  wele  nor  wo  never  shall  I  let 
To  serve  her,  how  farre  so  that  she  wende, 
Say  what  you  list,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende." 

Right  as  the  fresh  redde  rose  newe 
Against  the  sommer  Sunne  coloured  is, 
Right  so  for  shame  all  waxen  gan  the  hewe 
Of  this  formell,  whan  she  heard  all  this, 
Neither  she  answerde  well,  ne  said  amis, 
So  sore  abashed  was  she,  till  that  Nature 
Said,  "  Doughter  drede  you  not,  I  you  assure." 

Another  tercell  egle  spake  anon, 

Of  another  kind,  and  said,  "  That  should  not  bet 

I  love  her  better  than  ye  doe,  by  saint  John, 

Or  at  the  least,  I  love  her  as  well  as  ye, 

And  lenger  have  served  her  in  my  degree, 

And  if  she  should  have  loved  for  long  loving, 

To  me  alone  had  be  the  guerdoning. 

"  I  dare  eke  say,  if  she  me  finde  false, 

Unkind  jangler,  or  rebell  in  any  wise, 

Or  jelous,  doe  me  hang  by  the  halse, 

And  but  I  beare  me  in  her  servise 

As  well  as  my  wit  can  me  sufflse, 

Fro  point  to  point,  her  honour  for  to  sare, 

Take  she  my  life,  and  all  the  good  I  have." 

The  third  tercell  egle  answerde  tho, 
"  Now  sirs,  you  see  the  little  leaser  here, 
For  every  foule  crieth  out  to  be  ago 
Forth  with  his  make,  or  with  his  lady  dere  : 
And  eke  Nature  her  self  ne  will  not  here 
F«r  tarying  her,  not  half  that  I  would  sey, 
And  but  I  speake,  I  must  for  sorrow  dey. 


590  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

"  Of  long  service  avaunt  I  me  nothing, 
But  as  possible  is  ine  to  die  to  day 
For  wo,  as  he  that  hath  be  languishing 
This  twenty  winter,  and  wel  it  happen  may, 
A  man  may  serve  better,  and  more  to  pay, 
In  half  a  year,  although  it  were  no  more, 
Than  some  man  doth  that  hath  served  full  yore. 

''  I  ne  say  not  this  by  me,  for  I  ne  can 

Do  no  service  that  may  my  lady  please, 

But  I  dare  say  I  am  her  trewesf  man, 

As  to  my  dome,  and  fainest  wolde  her  please : 

At  short  wordes,  till  that  death  me  cease, 

I  will  be  hers,  whether  I  wake  or  winke, 

And  trewe  in  all  that  herte  may  bethinke." 

Of  al  my  life,  sith  that  day  I  was  borne, 

So  gentle  plee  in  love  or  other  thing, 

No  herde  never  no  man  me  beforne, 

Who  so  that  had  leiser  and  conning 

For  to  rehearse  their  chere,  and  their  speaking  ; 

And  from  the  morrow  gan  this  spech  last, 

Till  downward  went  the  Sunne  wonder  fast. 

The  noyse  of  foules  for  to  be  deliverd, 

So  loude  rang,  "  Have  don  and  let  us  wend," 

That  well  weend  I,  the  wood  had  al  to  shiverd  : 

"Come  off,"  they  cryd,  "alas,  ye  will  us  shend, 

'Whan  shal  your  cursed  pleding  have  an  end  ? 

How  should  a  judge  either  party  leve, 

For  ye  or  nay,  without  any  preve  ?  " 

The  goos,  the  duck,  and  the  cuckowe  also, 

So  cried  "  Keke,  keke,  Cuckow,  Queke,  queke,  hie/ 

Through  mine  eares  the  noise  went  tho. 

The  goos  said  than  li  Al  this  n'is  worth  a  flie, 

But  I  can  shape  hereof  a  remedie, 

And  will  say  my  verdite,  faire  and  swithe, 

For  water  foule,  whose  be  wroth  or  blithe." 

"  And  I  for  worm  foule,"  said  the  fole  cuckow, 

"  For  I  will  of  mine  own  authorite, 

For  common  spede,  take  on  me  the  charge 

For  to  deliver  us  it  is  great  charite," 

"  Ye  may  abide  a  while,  yet  perde," 

(Quod  the  turtel)  ';  if  it  be  your  will, 

A  wight  may  speak,  it  were  as  good  be  still- 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES.  591 

"  I  am  a  sede  foule,  one  the  unworthiest, 

That  wote  I  well,  and  leest  of  conning, 

But  better  is  that  a  wights  tonge  rest, 

Than  entremete  him  of  such  doing 

Of  which  he  neither  rede  can  nor  sing, 

And  who  so  it  doth,  full  foule  himself  acloyeth, 

For  office  uncommitted  oft  anrioyeth." 

Nature,  which  that  alway  had  an  eare 

To  murmure  of  the  lewdenesse  behind, 

With  facond  voice  said,  "  Hold  your  tongues  there 

Arid  I  shall  soone,  I  hope,  a  counsaile  find, 

You  for  to  deliver,  and  fro  this  noyse  unbind  : 

I  charge  of  every  flock  ye  shall  one  call, 

To  say  the  verdite  of  you  foules  all." 

Assented  were  to  this  conclusion, 

The  birdes  all ;  and  foules  of  ravine 

Have  chosen  first  by  plaine  election, 

The  tercelet  of  the  faucon  to  define 

All  hir  sentence,  and  as  him  lust  to  termine, 

And  to  Nature  him  they  did  present, 

And  she  accepteth  him  with  glad  entent. 

The  tercelet  said  than  in  this  manere, 
"  Full  hard  it  were  to  preve  it  by  reason, 
Who  loveth  best  this  gentle  form  ell  here, 
For  everich  hath  such  replicatioun, 
That  by  skils  may  none  be  brought  adoun, 
I  cannot  see  that  arguments  availe, 
Than  seemeth  it  there  must  be  battaile." 

"  All  ready  ''  (quod  these  eagle  tercels  tho  :) 

"  Nay  sirs,"  (quod  he)  "  if  that  I  durst  it  say, 

Ye  do  me  wrong,  my  tale  is  not  ydo  : 

For  sirs,  taketh  nat  a  greefe  I  pray, 

It  may  not  be  as  ye  would,  in  this  way, 

Ours  is  the  voice,  that  have  the  charge  in  hand, 

And  to  the  judges  dome  ye  must  stand. 

"  And,  therefore,  peace  I  say,  as  to  my  wit, 
Me  would  thinke,  how  that  the  worthiest 
Of  knighthood,  and  lerigest  had  used  it, 
Most  of  estate,  of  blood  the  gentillest, 
Were  fitting  for  her,  if  that  her  lest, 
And  of  these  three,  she  wote  her  selfe  I  trow 
Which  that  he  be,  for  it  is  light  to  know." 


692  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


The  water  foules  have  their  heads  laid 
Togider,  and  of  short  aviseiiient, 
Whan  everiche  had  this  verdite  said, 
They  said  soothly  all  by  one  assent, 
How  that  the  goes,  with  the  facond  gent, 
That  so  desireth  to  pronounce  our  nede, 
Shal  tel  her  tale,  and  praid  to  God  her  spede. 

And  for  these  water  foules  tho  began 

The  goose  to  speake,  and  in  her  cakeling 

She  said,  "  Peace  now,  take  keep  every  man, 

And  herken  which  a  reason  I  shall  forth  bring, 

My  witte  is  sharpe,  I  love  no  tarrying, 

I  say,  I  rede  him,  tho  he  were  my  brother, 

But  she  will  love  him,  let  him  love  another." 

"  Lo,  here  a  parfite  reason  of  a  goose" 
(Quod  the  sperhauke)  "  never  mote  she  the, 
Lo,  such  a  thing  it  is  to  have  a  tongue  lose: 
Now  parde  foole,  yet  were  it  better  for  the 
Have  held  thy  peace  than  shewd  thy  nicete  ; 
It  lieth  nat  in  his  wit,  nor  in  his  will. 
But  sooth  is  said,  a  fole  cannot  be  still." 

The  laughter  arose  of  gentill  foules  all, 
And  right  anone  the  seed  foules  chosen  had 
The  turtle  true,  and  gan  her  to  hem  call, 
And  prayed  her  to  say  the  sooth  sad 
Of  this  matter,  and  asked  what  she  rad  ? 
And  she  answerd,  that  plainly  her  entent 
She  would  shew,  and  soothly  what  she  ment. 

"  Nay,  God  forbede  a  lover  should  chaunge," 
The  turtle  said  (and  wex  for  shame  all  red) 
"Though  that  his  lady  evermore  be  straunge, 
Yet  let  him  serve  her  alway,  till  he  be  deed, 
Forsooth,  I  praise  not  the  gooses  reed, 
For  tho  she  died,  I  would  none  other  make, 
I  will  be  hers,  till  that  the  death  me  take." 

"  Well,  ybourded  ;'  (quod  the  duck)  "  by  my  hat, 

That  men  should  love  alway  causelesse, 

Who  can  a  reason  find,  or  wit  in  that  ? 

Daunceth  he  merry  that  is  mirthlesse  ? 

Who  should  recke  of  that  is  retchlesse? 

Ye  queke  yet,"  quod  the  duck,  "  full  well  and  fair. 

There  be  mo  sterres  in  the  skie  than  a  pair/' 


THE  ASSEMBLY  OF  FOULES.  593 


*'  Now  fie  churle,"  quod  the  gentle  tercelet, 

"  Out  of  the  dunghill  came  that  word  aright, 

Thou  canst  not  see  which  thing  is  well  beset, 

Thou  fairest  by  love  as  owles  by  light, 

The  day  hem  blindeth,  full  well  they  see  by  night, 

Thy  kind  is  of  so  low  wretchedness, 

That  what  love  is  thou  canst  not  see  nor  gess." 

Tho  gau  the  cuckow  put  him  forth  in  peace, 

For  foule  that  eateth  worme,  and  said  blive  : 

"  So  I,"  quod  he,  "  may  have  my  make  in  peace, 

I  retch  not  how  long  that  ye  strive, 

Let  ech  of  hem  be  soleine  all  hir  live, 

This  is  my  rede,  sens  they  may  nat  accord, 

This  short  lesson  needeth  riot  record." 

"  Ye  have  the  glutton  filde  his  paunch 

Than  are  we  well/'  said  the  emerlon, 

"Thou  murdrer  of  the  heysugge  on  the  braunch 

That  brought  thee  forth,  thou  ruful  glutton, 

Live  thou  solein,  wormes  corruption, 

For  no  foriie  is  of  lack  of  thy  nature, 

Go,  leude  be  thou  while  the  world  may  dure." 

"Now  peace,"  quod  Nature,  "I  commaunde  here, 

For  I  have  heard  all  you?  opinion, 

And  in  effect  yet  be  we  never  the  nere, 

But  finally,  this  is  my  conclusion, 

That  sche  her  selfe  shall  have  her  election 

Of  whom  her  list,  who  *o  be  worthe  or  blithe, 

Him  that  she  cheseth,  he  shall  her  have  as  swithe. 

"  For  sith  it  may  not  here  discussed  be 
Who  loveth  her  "best,  as  said  the  tercelet, 
Than  wol  I  done  this  favour  to  her,  that  she 
Shall  have  right  him  on  whom  her  herte  is  set, 
And  he  her,  that  his  herte  hath  on  her  knet  j 
This  judge  I  Nature,  for  I  may  not  lie 
To  none  estate,  I  have  none  other  eye. 

"  But  as  for  counsaile  for  to  chuse  a  make, 

If  I  were  reason,  than  would  I 

Counsaile  you  the  royal  tercell  take, 

As  said  the  tercelet  full  skilfully, 

As  for  the  gentillest  and  most  worthy, 

Which  I  have  wroght  so  wel  to  my  plesaunce 

That  to  you  it  ought  b«o  a  suffisaunce." 


594  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


With  dredeful  voice  that  forinel  her  answerd, 
"  My  rightful  lady,  goddess  of  Nature, 
Sooth  is,  that  I  am  ever  under  your  yerd, 
As  is  everich  other  creature, 
And  must  be  yours  while  my  life  may  dure, 
And  therefore  graunt  me  my  first  boone, 
And  mine  entent  you  woll  I  say  right  soone." 

"  I  graunt  it  you,"  quod  sche,  and  right  a  none 

This  forinel  eagle  spake  in  this  degree  : 

"  Almighty  quene,  unto  this  year  be  done 

I  aske  respite  for  to  avisen  niee, 

And  after  that  to  have  my  choice  all  free, 

This  all  and  some  that  I  would  speak  and  sey, 

Ye  get  no  more,  although  you  do  me  dey. 

"  I  wol  not  serven  Venus  ne  Cupide, 
Forsooth  as  yet,  by  no  nianer  way." 
"  Now  sens  it  may  none  other  ways  betide" 
(Quod  Nature)  "  here  is  no  more  to  say. 
Than  would  I  that  these  foules  were  away, 
Ech  with  his  make,  for  terying  lenger  here," 
And  said  hem  thus,  as  ye  shall  after  here. 

"  To  you  speke  I,  ye  tercelets  "  (quod  Nature) 
"  Beth  of  good  herte,  and  serveth  all  three, 
A  yeare  is  not  so  long  to  endure, 
And  ech  of  you  paine  him  in  his  degree, 
For  to  do  well,  for  God  wote  quit  is  she 
Fro  you  this  year,  what  after  so  befall, 
This  entremes  is  dressed  for  you  all." 

And  whan  this  werk  brought  was  to  an  end, 
To  every  foule  Nature  yave  his  make, 
By  even  accord,  and  on  hir  way  they  wend, 
And  Lord  the  blisse  and  joy  that  they  make, 
For  ech  of  hem  gari  other  in  his  wings  take, 
And  with  hir  neckes  ech  gan  other  winde, 
Thanking  alway  the  noble  goddess  of  kinde. 

But  first  were  chosen  foules  for  to  sing, 
As  yere  by  yere  was  alway  hir  usaunce, 
To  sing  a  roundel  at  hir  departing, 
To  do  Nature  honour  and  ple^aunce  ; 
The  note  I  trow  maked  was  in  Fraunce, 
The  words  were  such  as  ye  may  here  find, 
The  next  verse,  as  I  now  have  in  mind. 

Qui  bien  ayme  tard  oubiye. 


MINOR  POEMS.  595 


"  Now  welcome  summer,  with  thy  sunries  soft, 
That  hast  this  winter  weathers  overshake, 
Saint  Valentine,  thou  art  full  high  on  loft, 
Which  drivest  away  the  long  nights  blake  ; 
Thus  singen  sniale  foules  for  thy  sake, 
Well  have  they  cause  for  to  gladen  oft, 
Sens  each  of  hem  recovered  hath  his  make, 
Full  blisful  may  they  sing  whan  they  awake." 

And  with  the  shouting  whan  hir  song  was  do, 
That  the  foules  made  at  hir  flight  away, 
I  woke,  and  other  bookes  took  me  to 
To  rede  upon  and  yet  I  rede  alway, 
I  hope  ywis  to  rede  so  some  day, 
That  I  shall  mete  something  for  to  fare 
The  bet,  and  thus  to  rede  I  nill  not  spare. 


MINOR  POEMS. 


L'ENVOY  DE  CHAUCER  A  BUKTON. 

MY  master  Bukton,  whan  of  Christ  our  king, 
Was  asked,  what  is  troth  or  sothfastnesse, 
He  not  a  worde  answerde  to  that  asking, 
As  who  saith,  no  man  is  all  true,  I  gesse : 
And  therefore,  though  1  night  to  expresse 
The  sorrow  and  w  >  tuatis  in  manage, 
I  dare  not  writen  of  it  no  wickednesse, 
Lest  I  my  selfe  fall  efte  in  suche  dotage. 

I  woll  not  say  how  that  it  is  the  chaine 
Of  Sathanas,"on  which  he  knaweth  ever, 
But  I  dare  saine,  were  he  out  of  his  paine, 
As  by  his  will  he  would  be  bounden  never; 
But  thilke  doted  foole,  that  eft  hath  lever 
Ychayned  be,  than  out  of  prison  crepe, 
God  let  him  never  fro  his  wo  discever, 
Ne  no  man  him  bewayle,  though  he  wepe. 

But  yet,  lest  thou  doe  worse,  take  a  wife, 
Bet  is  tc  wedde  than  brerine  in  worse  wise. 
But  tho«\  shalt  have  sorow  on  thy  flesh  thy  li 
And  be»  thy  wives  thrale,  as  sain  these  wise, 


596  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

And  if  that  holy  writ  may  not  suffice, 
Experience  shall  thee  teach,  so  may  happe, 
Take  the  way  lever  to  be  taken  in  frise, 
Than  efte  to  fall  of  wedding  in  the  trappe. 

This  little  writte,  proverbes  or  figures, 
I  sende  you,  take  keepe  of  it  I  rede, 
Unwise  is  he  that  can  no  wele  endure, 
If  thou  be  siker,  put  thee  not  in  drede, 
The  Wife  of  Bathe  I  pray  you  that  ye  rede 
Of  this  matter  that  we  have  on  honde, 
Grod  graunt  you  your  lyfe  freely  to  lede 
In  fredouue,  for  foule  is  to  be  bonde. 


BALADE  SENT  TO  K.  RICHARD. 

SOMETIME  the  world  so  stedfast  was  arid  stable, 
Than  mannes  word  was  an  obligatioun, 
And  now  it  is  so  false  and  deceivable, 
That  word  arid  deed,  as  in  coriclusioun, 
Is  nothing  like,  for  tourned  is  up  so  doun 
All  the  world,  through  mede  arid  fikelriesse, 
That  all  is  lost  for  lacke  of  stedfastaesse. 

What  maketh  the  world  to  be  so  variable 

But  lust,  that  men  have  in  dissension  ? 

For  among  us  a  man  is  hold  unable, 

But  if  he  can  by  some  collusion 

Doe  his  neighbour  wrong  and  oppression  : 

What  causeth  this  but  wilfull  wretchednesae 

That  all  is  lost  for  lacke  of  stedfastnesse  ? 

Trouth  is  put  downe,  reason  is  hold  fable, 
Vertue  hath  now  no  domination, 
Pity  is  exiled,  no  man  is  merciable, 
Through  covetise  is  blente  discretion, 
The  world  hath  made  a  permutation, 
Fro  right  to  wrong,  fro  trouth  to  fikelnesaej 
That  all  is  lost  for  lacke  of  stedfastnesse. 

L'ENVOYE. 

Prince,  desire  to  be  honourable, 
Cherish  thy  folke,  and  hate  extortion, 
Suffer  nothing  that  may  be  reprovabto 


MINOR  POEMS.  597 

To  thine  estate,  done  in  thy  region, 

Shew  forth  the  yerd  of  castigation, 

Drede  God,  do  law,  love  trouth  and  worthinesse, 

And  wed  thy  folke  ayen  to  stedfastnesse. 


GOOD  COUNSAIL  OF  CHAUCER. 

FLY  fro  the  prease,  arid  dwell  with  soothfastnesse. 

Suffise  unto  thy  good  though  it  be  small, 

For  horde  ttwkt  hate,  and  climbing  tikelnesse,  (  .*~. 

Prease'hath  envy,  and  wele  is  blent  over  all, 

Savour  no  more  than  thee  behove  shall, 

Rede  well  thy  selfe  that  other  folke  canst  rede, 

And  trouth  thee  shall  deliver,  it  is  no  drede. 

Paine  thee  not  ech  crooked  to  redress 
In  trust  of  her  that  tourneth  as  a  ball, 
Great  rest  standeth  in  little  businesse, 
Beware  also  to  spume  againe  a  nail, 
Strive  not  as  doth  a  crocke  with  a  wall, 
Deme  thy  selfe  that  demest  others  dede, 
And  trouth  thee  shall  deliver,  it  is  no  drede. 

That  thee  is  sent  receive  in  buxomnesse, 
The  wrastling  of  this  world  asketh  a  fall, 
Here  is  no  home,  here  is  but  wildernesse,     > 
Forth,  pilgrime  !  forth,  beast,  out  of  thy  stall  I 
Looke  up  on  high,  and  thanke  God  of  all  ! 
Weive  thy  lusts,  and  let  thy  ghost  thee  lede, 
And  trouth  thee  shall  deliver,  it  is  no  drede. 


A  BALLADE  OF  THE  VILLAGE  WITHOUT  PAINTING, 

PLAIXTIFE  TO  FORTUNE. 

THIS  wretched  worldes  transmutation, 

As  wele  and  wo,  now  poor,  and  now  honour, 

Without  order  or  due  discretion, 

Governed  is  by  Fortunes  errour. 

But  natheless,  the  lacke  of  her  favour 

Ne  may  not  doe  me  sing,  though  that  I  die, 

fay  tout  perdu,  inon  temps  et  mon  labour, 

For  finally  Fortune  I  defie. 


698  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Yet  is  me  left  the  sight  of  ray  reasoun, 

To  know  friend  fro  foe  in  thy  mirrour, 

So  much  hath  yet  thy  tourning  up  and  doun 

Ytaught  me  to  knowen  in  an  hour, 

But  truly,  no  force  of  thy  reddour 

To  him  that  over  himselfe  hath  maistrie, 

My  suffisaunce  shall  be  my  succour, 

For  finally  Fortune  I  dene. 

0  Socrates,  thou  stedfast  champion, 
She  might  never  be  thy  turmentour, 
Thou  never  dredest  her  oppression, 
Ne  in  her  chere  found  thou  no  favour, 
Thou  knew  the  deceit  of  her  colour, 
Arid  that  her  moste  worship  is  for  to  lie, 

1  know  her  eke  a  false  dissimulour, 
For  finally  Fortune  I  defie. 

THE   AXSWKRE  OF   FORTUNE. 

No  man  is  wretched,  but  himselfe  it  wene, 
Ne  that  hath  in  himselfe  suffisaunce, 
Why  saist  thou  than  I  am  to  thee  so  kene, 
That  hast  thy  selfe  out  of  my  governance  ? 
Say  thus,  graunt  mercy  of  thine  habundance 
That  thou  hast  lent,  or  this,  thou  shalt  not  strire, 
What  Afrost  thou  yet  how  I  thee  \voll  avance  ? 
And  eke  thou  hast  thy  best  friend  alive. 

I  have  thee  taught  devision  betweene 
Friend  of  effect,  and  friend  of  countenaunce, 
Thee  needeth  nat  the  gall  of  an  hine, 
That  cureth  even  darke  for  her  pennaunce, 
Now  seest  thou  clere  that  were  in  ignoraunce, 
Yet  holt  thine  anker,  and  yet  thou  maist  arrive 
There  bounty  beareth  the  key  of  my  substance, 
And  eke  thou  hast  thy  best  friend  alive. 

How  many  have  I  refused  to  sustene, 
Sith  I  have  thee  fostred  in  thy  pleasaunce  ? 
Wolt  thou  than  make  a  statute  on  thy  quene, 
That  I  shall  be  aye  at  thine  o  rdinaunce  ? 
Thou  born  art  in  my  reigne  of  variaunce, 
About  the  whele  with  other  must  thou  drive, 
My  lore  is  bet  than  Avicke  is  thy  grevaunce, 
And  eke  thou  hast  thy  best  friend  aliv»- 


MINOR  POEMS.  599 


THE   ANSWERS   TO   FORTUNE. 

Thy  lore  I  darapne,  it  is  adversity, 
My  frend  maist  thou  not  reve,  blind  goddesse, 
That  I  thy  friends  know,  I  thanke  it  thee, 
Take  hem  againe,  let  hem  go  lie  a  presse, 
The  niggardes  in  keeping  hir  richesse, 
Pronostike  is,  thou  wolt  hir  toure  assaile, 
Wicke  appetite  commeth  aye  before  sicknesae, 
In  general  this  rule  may  not  faile. 

FORTUNE. 

Thou  pinchest  at  my  mutability, 

For  I  thee  lent  a  droppe  of  my  richesse, 

And  now  me  liketh  to  withdraw  me, 

Why  shouldest  thou  my  royalty  oppresse  ? 

The  sea  may  ebbe  and  How  more  and  lesse, 

The  welken  hath  might  to  shine,  rain,  and  hail, 

Right  so  rnusu  I  kithe  my  brotilnesse, 

In  generall  this  rule  may  not  fail. 

THE   PLAINTIFE. 

Lo,  the  execution  of  the  majesty, 

That  all  purveigheth  of  his  rightwisenesse, 

That  same  thing  Fortune  clepen  ye, 

Ye  blind  beasts,  full  of  leaudnesse, 

The  Heaven  hath  property  of  sikernesse, 

This  world  hath  ever  restlesse  travaile, 

The  last  day  is  end  of  mine  entresse, 

In  generall  this  rule  may  not  faile. 

TH'ENVOYE  OF  FORTUNE. 

Princes,  I  pray  you  of  your  gentilnesse 
Let  not  this  man  and  me  thus  cry  and  plain, 
And  I  shall  quite  you  this  business*1, 
And  if  ye  liste  releve  him  of  his  pain, 
Pray  ye  his  beste  frende,  of  his  noblesse, 
That  to  some  better  state  he  may  attain. 


600  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


L'ENVOY  DE  CHAUCER. 

A   SCOGAN. 

TOBROKEN  been  the  statutes  hie  in  Heaven, 
That  create  were  eternally  t'endure, 
Sithe  that  I  see  the  bright  goddes  seven 
Mowe  wepe  and  waile,  and  passion  endure, 
As  may  in  yearth  a  mortall  creature  : 
Alas,  fro  wheris  may  this  thing  precede, 
Of  which  errour  I  die  almost  for  drede  ? 

By  word  eterne,  whilom,  was  it  shape, 
That  fro  the  fifth  cercle,  in  no  manere, 
Ne  might  of  teares  doune  escape, 
But  now  so  weepeth  Venus  in  her  sphere, 
That  with  her  teares  she  wol  drench  us  here. 
Alas,  Scogan,  this  is  for  thine  offence, 
Thou  causest  this  deluge  of  pestilence. 

Hast  thou  not  said,  in  blaspheme  of  the  goddis, 
Through  pride,  or  through  thy  gret  rekelnes, 
Such  things  as  in  the  law  of  love  forbode  is, 
That  for  thy  lady  saw  not  thy  distresse, 
Therfore  thou  yave  her  up  at  Miglielmesse  ? 
Alas,  Scogan,  of  olde  folke  ne  yong, 
Was  never  erst  Scogan  blamed  for  his  tong. 

Thou  drew  in  scorne  Cupide  eke  to  record, 
Of  thilke  rebell  word  that  thou  hast  spoken, 
For  which  he  woll  no  lenger  be  thy  lord, 
And  Scogan,  though  his  bow  be  not  broken, 
He  woll  not  with  his  arowes  be  ywroken 
On  thee  ne  me,  ne  none  of  our  figure, 
We  shall  of  him  have  neither  hurte  ne  cure. 

Now  certes,  frend.  I  drede  of  thine  unhape, 
Lest  for  thy  gilte  the  wreche  of  love  procede 
On  all  hem  that  been  hore  and  round  of  shape, 
That  be  so  likely  folke  to  spede, 
Than  we  shall  of  our  labour  have  our  mede, 
But  well  I  wot,  thou  wolt  answere  and  say, 
Lo,  old  Grisell  list  to  renne  and  play. 


MINOR  POEMS.  601 


Nay,  Scogan,  say  not  so,  for  I  me  excuse, 
(iod  helpe  me  so,  in  no  rime  doubtles, 
Ne  thiiike  1  never  of  sleepe  wake  my  muse, 
That  rusteth  in  my  sheath  still  in  pees, 
While  I  was  yong  I  put  her  forth  in  prees, 
But  all  shall  passe  that  men  prose  or  rime, 
Take  every  man  his  tourne  as  for  his  time. 

Scogan,  thou  knelest  at  the  stremes  hedde 
Of  grace,  of  all  honour,  and  of  worthiness, 
In  th'ende  of  which  I  am  dull  as  dedde, 
Forgotten  in  solitary  wildernesse, 
Yet,  Scogan,  thinke  on  Tullius'  kindness, 
Mind  thy  frende  there  it  may  fructiiie, 
Farewel,  and  looke  thou  never  eft  love  delic. 


TO  HIS  EMPTY  PURSE. 

To  you,  my  purse,  and  to  none  other  wight 

Complaine  I,  for  ye  he  my  lady  dere, 

I  am  sorry  now  that  ye  be  light, 

For,  certes.  ye  now  make  me  heavy  chere, 

Me  were  as  lefe  laid  upon  a  here, 

For  which  unto  your  mercy  thus  I  crie, 

Be  heavy  againe,  or  els  mote  I  die. 

Now  vouchsafe  this  day  or  it  be  night, 
That  I  of  you  the  blissful  sowne  may  here, 
Or  see  your  colour  like  the  Sunne  bright, 
That  of  yelowness  had  never  pere, 
Ye  be  my  life,  ye  be  my  hertes  stere, 
Queene  of  comfort  and  of  good  companie, 
Be  heavy  agaiue,  or  els  mote  I  die. 

Now  purse,  that  art  to  me  my  lives  light, 
And  saviour,  as  downe  in  this  world  here, 
Out  of  this  towne  helpe  me  by  your  rirght- 
Sith  that  you  woll  not  be  my  treasure, 
For  I  am  shave  as  nere  as  any  frere, 
But  I  pray  unto  your  curtesie, 
Be  heavy  againe,  or  els  mote  I  die. 


602  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


A  BALLAD 

MADE   BY  CHAUCER,    TEACHING   WHAT   IS   GENTILNESfl,  OR 
WHOM   IS    WORTHY    TO    BE   CALLED    GENTILL. 

THE  first  stocke  father  of  gentilnes, 

What  man  desireth  gentil  for  to  bee, 

Must  followe  his  trace,  and  all  his  wittes  dres 

Vertue  to  love  and  vices  for  to  flee, 

For  unto  vertue  longeth  dignitee, 

And  not  the  revers  falsly,  dare  I  deme, 

All  weare  he  miter,  crowne,  or  diademe. 

This  first  stocke  was  full  of  rightwisnes, 
Trevve  of  his  worde,  sober,  pitous  and  free, 
Clene  of  his  goste,  and  loved  besinesse, 
Against  the  vice  of  slouth  in  honeste, 
And,  but  his  heire  love  vertue  as  did  he, 
He  is  not  gentill,  though  he  rich  seme, 
All  weare  he  miter,  crowne,  or  diademe. 

Viceste  may  well  be  heir  to  old  richesse, 

But  there  may  no  man,  as  men  may  wel  see, 

Bequethe  his  heire  his  virtues  noblenesse, 

That  is  appropried  unto  no  degree, 

But  to  the  first  father  in  majestee, 

That  maketh  his  heires  them  that  him  queme 

All  weare  he  miter,  crowne,  or  diademe. 


PROVERBES 

AGAIXST   COVETISE   AXD   NEGLIGENX*. 

WHAT  shall  these  clothes  manifold, 
Lo,  this  hote  son.ers  day? 
After  great  heat  commeth  cold, 
No  man  cast  his  pilche  away. 
Of  al  this  world  the  large  compasse 
It  will  not  in  mine  armes  twaine  ; 
Who  so  mokel  woll  embrace, 
Litel  thereof  he  shall  distraine. 


MINOR  POEMS.  603 


CHAUCER'S  WORDS  UNTO  HIS  OWN  SCRIVENER, 

ADAM  Scrivener,  if  ever  it  thee  befall 

Boece  or  Troilus  for  to  write  new, 

Under  thy  long  locks  thou  niaist  have  the  seal) 

But  after  my  making  thou  write  more  trew, 

So  oft  a  day  I  mote  thy  werke  renew, 

It  to  correct  and  eke  to  rubbe  and  scrape, 

And  all  is  thorow  thy  negligence  and  rape. 


VIRELAI. 

ALONE  walking, 

In  thought  plaining, 

And  sore  sighing, 

All  desolate : 

Me  remembring 

Of  my  living, 

My  death  wishing, 

Both  early  and  late  : 

Infortunate 

Is  so  my  fate 

That  wote  ye  what  ? 

Out  of  measure. 

My  life  I  hate  : 
Thus  desperate 
In  such  poor  estate 

Do  I  endure, 

Of  other  cure 
Am  I  not  sure 
Thus  to  endure 

Is  hard  certain. 

Such  is  my  ure, 
I  you  ensure, 
What  creature 

May  have  more  pain  ? 


604  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

My  truth  so  plain 
Is  taken  in  vain, 
And  great  disdain 

In  remeinbraurice, 

Yet  I  full  fain, 
Would  me  complain, 
Me  to  abstain 

From  this  penaunce. 

But  in  substaunce, 
None  allegeaunce 
Of  my  grevaunce 

Can  I  riot  find. 

Right  so  my  chauiice 
Wiih  displesaunce 
Doth  me  avaunce, 

And  thus  an  end* 


GLOSSAEY. 


i.  later),  ah  I 

ibniseht,  part.  p».  (A.K.),  abashed, 
Mbamed. 

ibctte,  T.  (A.N.),  to  beat  down. 

Abffgt,  abeye,  abie,  v.  (A.S.),  to  suffer 
for. 

Abfi,  n.  (A.s.),  help- 

At,i,'lt.  v.  (A.S.),  to  stay ;  abyden,  part. 
pa.  ;  nhir,  abideth. 

Able,  adj.  (A.N.),  lit,  capable. 

Aboui  -•>*,•,  part.  p».  of  abegije. 

Abouttn,  prep.  (A. 8.),  about. 

Abrayde,  \,  (A.s-),  to  awake  ;  to  start. 
See  liraide, 

Abrigge,  v.  (A.N.)  to  shorten,  to  abridge. 

Abroche,  v.  (A.X-)  to  tap,  to  set  abroach. 

Abusinun,  n.  (A.N.),  abuse,  impropriety. 

Accidie,  n.  (A.N.,  from  axrjSia,  GrJ,  neg- 
ligence ;  arising  from  discontent,  mel- 
ancholy, &c. 

Acate,  n.  (A.N.),  purchase. 

Achalour,  n.  (A.N.),  a  purchaser;  a  ca- 
terer. 

Acomberd,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  encumbered. 

Acord,  n.  (A.N.),  agreement ;  to  agree. 

Adave,  v.  (A.S.),  to  awake. 

Ado,  v.  (A.S.),  to  do.  To  have  ado,  to 
have  to  do. 

Admin,  adv.  (A.S.),  downward,  below. 

Adrad,  part.  pa.  of  adrede,  v.  (A.S.), 
afraid. 

Adventayle,  iee  Aventayle. 

Adverte  ce,  n.  (A.K.),  attention. 

Advocas,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  lawyers,  advo- 
cates. 

Afered,  aferde,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  afraid, 
f  lightened. 

Ajgnrmed,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  confirmed. 

Affye,  v.  (A.N.),  to  trust. 

4/frayt,  v.  (A.N.),  to  frighten. 

Affray,  n  (A.N.),  disturbance,  fear. 

fate,  v.  (A.N.),  to  rile,  polish. 
\firren,  aforne,    a/ore,    adj.    and    prep. 
(A. 8.)   before. 

iyainn,  agein,  prep.  (A.9.),  against,  to- 
ward. 

Ijas'e,  v.  (A. 8.),  to  terrify  ;  agast,  part, 
pa.,  terrified. 

Ayilt,  v.  (A.S.),  to  offend,  to  sin  against ; 
agiltf,  pa.  t.,  Binned. 

igrege,  v.  (A.N.),  to  aggravate. 

Ayrise,  v.  (A.S.),  to  shudder,  to  make  to 
•h  udder. 

4qn>ted,  part,  pa.,  cloyed,  surfeited. 

Alcntwe,  (A.*.),  to  eonfeM. 


Alther,  oiler,  gen.  ca.  pi.,  of  all ,  fre 
quently  joined  in  composition  wi;  h  a<l 
jectives  of  the  superlative  d<-grce.  41 
ther-jirst,  alther-last,  alt/ier-levts/,  6  rut, 
last.'dearest  of  all. 

Alauiiz,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  a  species  of  dog. 

Aluye,  n.  (A.N.),  allay;  a  mixture  of 
base  metal. 

Albiiication,  n.  (Lat.),  a  chemical  term 
for  making  white. 

Alciili/,  n.  (Arab.),  a  chemical  term  for  h 
species  of  salt. 

A/chi/mistre,  n.  (A.X.),  alohylnist. 

Aldruin,  pr.  n.,  a  star  on  the  neck  of  th« 
lion. 

Alrmbiket,  n.  pi.  (Fr.),  vessels  for  distil- 
ling ;  stills. 

A/rye,  n.  (A.N.),  an  alley. 

Alyates,  alyate,  adv.  (A.8.),  always;  al- 
though. 

Alleytje,  v.  (A.x.),  to  allege. 

Almrsse,  n.  (A.s.,  from  eleemosyna), 
alms  ;  almesses,  pi. 

Alnath.  pr.  n..  the  tirst  star  in  the  horng 
of  Aries,  whence  the  first  mansion  of 
the  moon  takes  its  name. 

Along,  prep.  (A.s.).  Whererm,  it  was 
a/ontj,  by  what  it  was  occasioned  ;  on 
me  is  nought  along  thine  eril  fare,  thy 
ill  fare  is  not  occasioned  by  nie. 

Alone,  v.  (A.x.),  to  allow,  to  approve. 
His  dedes  are  to  alowe  for  his  hardy 
nesse.  Therefore  lords  alow  him  iitle 
or  lysten  to  his  reason. 

Aloice.  adv.  (A.S.).  low. 

Ala,  conj.  (A.s.),  also,  as. 

Amalfjnming.  a  chemical  term  for  mij 
ing  of  quicksilver  with  any  metal. 

Ambasnatrye,  n.  (A.X.),  embassy. 

Ambes  aas,  (A.N.),  two  aoes,  at  dice. 

Amende,  v.  (A.X.),  to  mend. 

Amenusc,  \.  (A.s.),  to  lessen. 

Amt'vi/'l,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  moyed. 

Ami/ddfs,  prep.  (A.s.),  at  or  in  the  mid 
die. 

Ammieste,  v.  (A.>'.),  to  admonish,  to  Ml 
vise. 

Amortised,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  killed. 

A  monce,  on  the  morrow. 

An,  for  on,  prep. 

And,  conj.  (A.s.),  often  used  for  if. 

Ane/as,  n.  (A.jf),  a  dagger,  or  iroo4- 
knife. 

Anex,  ndv.  for  ones,  one*. 

Anhiituj,  T.  (A. 8.),  to  luui|[  u\>. 


606 


GLOSSARY 


Anker,  n.  (A.s.),  an  anchorite  or  hermit. 

Annueller,  n.  (A.N.),  secular. 

Annunclal,  pirt.  pa.  (Lat.),  foretold. 

4niioyes,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  annoyances, 
troubles. 

4nnoye,  anoyt,  anuye,  v.  (A.N.),  to  hurt, 
*o  trouble. 

Anslets,  n.  (A.N.),  an  article  of  dress,  ap- 
parently breeches 

Antiphoiiere,  n.,  a  book  of  antiphones,  or 
anthems. 

dnvelt,  n.  (A.s.),  an  anvil. 

Apayde,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  paid,  satisfied. 

Apeyre,v.  (A.N.),  to  impair,  to  detract 
from. 

Avert,  adj.  (A.s.),  open,  in  public. 

Appalled,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  made  pale. 

Apparaile,  v.  (A.N.),  to  prepare. 

Apparence,  n.  (A.N.),  an  appearance. 

Apparceyve,  v.  (A.N.),  to  perceive. 

Apparceyvynge*.  n.  pi.,  perceptions. 

Appose,1.  (A.M.),  to  object  to,  to  ques- 
tion. 

Approvour.  n.  (A.jf.),  an  informer. 

Aqiieintable,  ftd,.  (A.N.),  easy  to  be  ac- 
quainted with. 

Aquite,  v.  (A.N.),  to  pay  for. 

Arace.  v.  (A.N.),  to  draw  away  by  force. 

Arraye,  v.  (A.  A1.),  to  dress,  to  dispose. 

Archetcyves,  wives  of  a  superior  order. 

Anhire,  n.  (A.N.),  burning. 

Arede,  v,  (A.S.),  to  interpret. 

Arreraye,  n.  (A.N.),  arrear. 

Areyse,  v.  (A. 8.),  to  raise. 

Arrest,  n.  (A.K.),  constraint,  delay. 

Areste,  v.  (A.N,),  to  stop. 

Aretle,  v.  (A.X.),  to  impute  to. 

Argoil,  n.  (A.N.),  letter's  clay. 

Arrivaye,  n.  (A.N.),  arrival. 

Arket  n.,  a  part  of  the  circumference  of 
a  circle. 

Arm-gret.  adj.  (A.S.),  as  thick  as  a  man's 
arm. 

Armipotent,  adj.,  mighty  in  arms. 

Armure,  n.  (A.N.),  armor. 

Arn,  pi.  n.  of  am,  v.  (A.s.),  are. 

Arxmetrike,  n.,  arithmetic. 

Arlelries,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  artillery. 

Artoic,  for  art  thou. 

Aru'f,  n.  (A.S.),  an  arrow. 

Ascaunce,  as  though,  as  if,  as  if  to  say. 

Asschen,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  ashes. 

Aslake,  v.  (A.s.),  to  slacken,  to  abate. 

Asp,  n.  <A.S.),  a  sort  of  poplar. 

Aspen,  adj.,  of  an  asp. 

Aspie,  v.  (A.X.),  to  espie. 

AS.--HUI,  n.  (A.N.),  assault. 

Asxiiile,  v.  (A.N.),  to  absolve,  to  answer. 

Astmit,  n,  (A.N.),  estate,  state. 

Asti'rte,  v.  (A. 8-),  to  esoape,  to  release. 

Astnneyrl,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  confounded, 
astonished. 

A*irylat>t,  n.  (A.N.),  the  astrolabe,  an 
Astronomical  instrument. 

Aatrologifn,  n.  (A.X.),  astrologer. 

Atwovnt,  in  a  ewoon. 


^«e,  prep.  (A.S.),  at  the. 

Atake,  v.  (A.s.),  to  overtake 

Attained,  part.  pa.  (A.N.\  opened,  begun 

Attcmpre,  adj.  (A.X.),  temperate. 

Attemprely,  adv.  (A.N.),  temperately. 

At  fry,  atterly.  adj.  (A.s.),  poisonous,  per- 
nicious. 

A-tisynne,  in  two,  asunder. 

Avale,  v.  (A.N.),  to  lower,  to  let  down,  to 
go  down. 

Avaunce,  v.  (A.N.),  to  advance,  to  proflt- 

Avaunle,  v.  (A.N.),  to  boast. 

Avaunt,  adv.  ( A. N.),  forward. 

Auctoritt,  n.  (A.N.),  a  text  of  Scriptura. 
or  of  some  respectable  writer. 

Auctour,  n.  (A.N.),  author. 

Avenaunt,  adj.  (A.X.),  becoming. 

Aventayle,  n.  (A.N.),  a  part  of  the  hel 
met. 

Aventure,  n.  (A.N.),  adventure  jhance. 

Augrym,  a  corruption  of  algorithm,  or 
arithmetic. 

Anis,  n.  (A.N.),  advice,  opinion. 

Avyse,  v.  (A.N.),  to  observe  ;  look  to. 

Aviso  wi,  11.  (A.K.),  a  vision. 

Auntre,  v.  (A.N.),  corruption  of  a»en- 
tare;  to  adventure:  auntrous,  adj., 
adventurous. 

Avouterer,  auoutrer,  n.  (A.N.),  an  adul- 
terer. 

Avoutrie,  n.  (A.X.),  adultery. 

.<4!70tc,  n.  (A.N.),  a  vow. 

Auter,  n.  (A.X.),  an  altar. 

Awayte,  n.  (A.N.),  watch. 

Awaytand,  part,  pr.,  watching. 

Away-ward,  adv.  (A.s.),  away. 

Awreke,  v.  (A.N.),  to  revenge. 

^a:e,  v.  (A. s.),  to  ask  :  axyng,  requent, 
asking. 

Aye,  adv.  (A.s.),  ever. 

Ay  el,  n.  (A.N.),  grandfather. 

Ba,  seem?  to  be  formed  from  basse,  T. 

(A.N.),  to  kiss. 
Jiacheler,  n.  (A.x.),  an  unmarried  man  ; 

a  knight ;  one  who  has  taken  his  firsv 

degree  in  a  university. 
Bachelerie,  n.    (A.N.),    knighthood;    the 

bachelene,  the  knights. 
Jiade,  pa.  t.  of  be.de.. 
Ilailder,  comp.  d.  of  bad,  adj.,  worse. 
Jlaite,  v.  (A.S,),  to  feed,  to  stop  to  feed. 
fiale,  n.  (A.s.),  mischief,  sorrow. 
Balkcs,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  the  timbers  of  thw 

roof. 

fiallid,  adj.,  smooth  as  a  ball,  bald. 
Hane,  n.  (A.s.),  destruction. 
liarme,  n.  (A.S.),  the  lap,  bosom. 
Ilnmn-cloih,  an  apron. 
Jlnreif/n?,  adj.  (A.s.),  barren. 
Jialfic,  for  bothe. 
Jiuiulertf,  baudrie,  n.,  pimping,  keeping 

a  bawdy-house. 
Baud!/,  adj.,  dirty. 
Bayard,  pr.  n.   (A.N.),  a  bay-horse  ;    I 

horse  in  general. 


GLOSSARY. 


607 


Bekke,  v.  (A.N.),  to  nod. 

Kedv,  v.  (A.S.),  to  order,  to  bid  ;  to  offer  ;  j 

to  pray. 

Bedrcd,  adj.  (A.S.).  confined  to  bed. 
Been,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  bees. 
•Heete,  v.  (Sax.),  to  prepare,  make  ready  ; 

to  beetefyres,  to  make  fires  ;  to  mend; 

to  heal  :  to  beete  iiettyg,  to  mend  nets. 
Beyoit,  part.  pa.  (A. 8.),  gone :  we  I  bet/on. 

in  a  good  way  :  wo  bt-yon,  far  gone  iu 

woe. 

£euonne,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  begun. 
ikl  tumi,  (A.x.),  good  friend. 
Belle  cJiere.  (A. x.),  good  cheer. 
Bete   choxe,  (A.x.),    literally,    beautiful 

thing 

helys,  bt'ly,  n.  (A.s.),  bellows. 
Bern  f  s,  ii.  pi.  (A.s.),  trumpets. 
Ben,  inf.  ni.  (A.s.),  to  be  ;  pr.  t.  pi.,  are  ; 

part,  pa.,  been. 
Bendiny,  n.,  striping  ;  making  of  bands 

or  stripes. 

Bene,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bean. 
Belie  dicile,'(La.t.),  bless  us  ! 
Benii/ne,  adj.  (A.x.),  kind. 
Beninie,  v.  (A.s.),  to  take  away. 
Beuesoun,  n.  (A.x.),  benediction. 
Bent,  n.  (A.S.),  the  bending  or  declivity 

of  a  hill. 

Berd,  n.  (A.S.),  beard. 
Bere,  n.  I.A.S.),  a  bear. 
Bere,  v.  (A.S.),  to  bear,  to  carry  :  to  bere 

in  or  OH   hand,  to  accuse  falsely  ;   to 

persuade  falsely  :  to  bere  the  belle,  to 

carry  the  prize. 
Bere,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bier. 
Bi-riny,  n.  (A.s.),  behavior,  bearing. 
lierme,  n.  (A.S.),  yeast. 
Berne,  n.  (A.S.),  a  barn. 
Jteseke,  v.  (A.S.),  to  beoeech, 
Bead-,  n.  (A.X.),  a  beast. 
Bet,  adv.  comp.  for  better. 
Betectie,  v.,  as  betake. 
Beth,  imperat.,  be  ye. 
Bri/f,  v.  (A.s.).  to  buy. 
Bibbi'if,  part,  pa.  (Lat.),  drunk. 
Bible,  n.  (A.X),  any  great  book. 
Bi-hled,  part,    pa.'  (A.s.),  covered   with 

blood. 

Itin-het  bones,  dice. 
Jti/clit/i/M',  v.  (A.S.),  to  catch. 
Bi/dujfrd,  part.  pa.  (A.S.\  made  a  fool  of. 
B'l/dde,  v.,  as  &<></<•. 
Bilille,  v.  (A.s.1,  befel. 
Blforen,  biforne,   adv.   and   prep.   (A.S.), 

before. 

Bn.foni,  (A.s.),  before. 
Bt/f/iled,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  beguiled. 
Jlif/on,  see  beymt. 
Byf/i/niie,  v.  (A.s.),  to  begin. 
Bifneste,  11.  (A.S.),  a  promise. 
Jii/lut/hte,  v.  (A.S.),  to  promise. 
B'ijh<it<',  v.  (A.s.),  to  promise. 
Byjaped,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  tricked,  laughed 

at. 
Byknowe,  v.  (A.s.).  to  ctmfeas. 


Bileei-e,  n.  (A.s.),  belief,  creed. 

Bi/ieoe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  stay. 

7^i//e,  n.,  a  letter. 

Jii/rtift,  part.  pa.  of  byreve,  v.  (A.s.),  be- 
reaved,  taken  away. 

Byschrewe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  curse. 

-%•«•',  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  placed,  employed 

Bi/seye,  part.  pa.  of  iexce,  v.  -.Sax.),  he- 
seen  :  i/te  bygeye,  ill  beseen,  of  a  bad 
appearance  (1.  8x41)  :  rMiely  bim-i/e,  of 
a  rich  appearance  (1.  ,H8(50). 

Bisitle,  prep.  (A.s.),  by  the  side  of. 

Bynmoterua,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  smiuted. 

Bisxemare,  n.  (A.s.),  abusive  speech. 

Bijstail,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  situated,  bested. 

Byt,  for  biddetk. 

Bytdke,  v.  (A.s.),  to  give,  deliver;  to 
recommend  to :  Injtauijht,  pa.  t.,  rec- 
ommended to. 

Bytid,  happened. 

Bytoke,  pa.  t.  of  bytale,  recommended. 

hytoure,  n.  (A.x.),  a  bittern. 

Bi/traised,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  betrayed. 

Byficixe,  prep.  (A.s.),  between. 

Byioreye,  v.  (A.s.),  to  discover. 

Buye,  v.  (A.s.).  to  suffer  ;  see  abegge. 

Blend,  v.  (A.s.),  to  blind,  to  deceive. 

Blent,  part.,  blinded,  deceived. 

Bleynte,  pa.  i.  of  blench,  \.  (A.s.),  shrunk, 
started  aside. 

Blered,  part-  pa.  (A.s.),  in  its  common 
sense,  is  used  to  describe  a  particular 
disorder  of  the  eye,  attended  with 
soreness  and  dimness  of  sight ;  but 
more  commonly,  in  Chaucer,  a  man's 
eye  is  said  to  be  blered,  metaphorically, 
when  he  is  any  way  imposed  upon. 

Blynne,  v.  (A.s.),  to  cease. 

Jili/fe,  adv.  (\.s.),  quickly. 

Bloxme,  blosseme,  n.  (^.s.),  blossom  ;  v 
to  blossom. 

Blossemy,  adj.,  full  of  blossoms. 

Bobauiice,  n.  (A.x.),  boasting. 

Bode,  boden,  part.,  bidden,  commanded. 

Boydekyn,  n.  (A.s.),  a  dagger. 

Boiste,  n.  (A.X.),  a  box. 

Jloistoiix,  adj.  (A.S.),  boisterous,  rough. 

Boistrously,  adv.,  roughly. 

Bolceler,  n.  (A.X.),  a  buckler. 

Bokelyny,  part.  )>r.  (A.N.),  buckling. 

Bokel,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bucket. 

Bolt,  n.  (A.S.).  an  arrow  :  I... it  upriyht, 
straight  as  an  arrow. 

Bonaire te,  n.,  for  ifabonairde. 

lioone,  n.  (A.S.),  a  boon,  petition  .  he  bad 
hem  alle  a  boone,  he  asked  them  all  e. 
boon. 

Borax,  n.  (A.X.),  borax. 

Jioord,  bord,  n.  (Fr.),  board  ;  the  deck  of 
a  ship  ;  a  table. 

Bordel,  n.  (A.x.),  a  brothel  :  I'Ordel  v:o- 
meii,  whores. 

Borel,  n.  (A.X.),  coarse  cloth  of  a  brown 
color;  adj.  made  of  plain  coarse  stuff; 
barel  folk,  bore!  iih-n,  laymen. 

Bonce,  n.  (A.s.),  a  pledjj«. 


608 


GLOSSARY. 


Bosard,  n.  (A.ir),  a  buzzard,  a  species 
of  hawk  unfit  for  spoiling. 

Bos,  n.  (A.X.),  a  protuberance. 

lioost,  n.  (A.S.),  pride,  boasting. 

Boost,  adv.,  aloud. 

tioote,  bote,  u.  (A. s.;,  remedy,  help,  prof- 
it ;  v.,  to  help. 

lioote  bit. 

Hotel..  bole'.le,  n.  (A.x.),  bottle. 

Bothe;  adj.  (A.  s.),  two  together  :  owr 
6nffce  labour,  the  labor  of  us  two  to- 
gether. 

Sniik,  n.  (A .s.),  the  body. 

toulte.  v;  (A.S.).  to  sift,  to  separate  the 
flour  of  wheat  from  the  bran. 

&>nn,  adj.  (A.S.),  reaily. 

B'.ninte,  n.  (A.N.).  goodness. 

Buttrde,  n.  (A.X.),  ;i  jest :  v.,  to  jest. 

llonre,  11.  (A.S.),  a  chamber. 

Bracer,  n.  (A.N.),  armor  for  the  arm. 

Braydc,  n.  (A.S.),  a  start :  v.,  to  awake, 
to  start;  to  take  olf. 

Brarjat.  n.  (Welsh),  a  sweet  drink  made 
of  the  wort  of  ale,  honey,  and  spice, 
said  to  be  still  in  use  in  Wales. 

Brasil,  n.,  a  wood  used  in  dyeing,  to  give 
a  red  co'or. 

Bratt,  n.  (A.S.),  a  coarse  mantle. 

Brech,  n.  (A..s.),  breeches. 

Brecde,  n.  (A.S.),  breadth. 

Breeme,  adv.  (A.S.),  furiously. 

Brennc,  v.  (A.S.),  to  burn  ;  brenden,  they 
burnt ;  brent,  burnt. 

Brennyngly,  adv.,  hotly. 

Breres,  n.  pi.  (A-x.),  briars. 

Bret-fill,  a<lj.,  top-full. 

Briben,  v.  (A.X.),  to  beg,  or  perhaps  to 
steal. 

Bribours,  bribers. 

Brida/e,  11.  (A.S.),  a  marriage-feast. 

Britldcs,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  birds. 

Brike,  n.  (A.S-).  breach,  ruin. 

Brocaye,  11.  (A.X.),  a  treaty  by  a  broker  or 
agent. 

Broch,  n.  (Fr.).  a  brooch,  or  clasp.  It 
probably  came  by  degrees  to  signify 
any  sort  of  jewel." 

Ilrowilld,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  braided,  woven. 

Bronde,  n.  (A.X.),  a  torch. 

Brosten,  burst. 

Brotherheil,  n.  (A.S.),  brotherly  affection. 

Crowded,  part.  pa.  (A.x.)  ;  'brode,  em- 
breidereu. 

Jtroulcen,  inf.  m.  (A.S.),  to  brook,  to  en- 
joy, use. 

lirutil,  adj.  (A.S.),  brittle. 

Brutelne.tae,  n.,  brittleness. 

Bukkcs  hum,  a  buck's  horn.  7V>  i,/'oM>  the 
buckvs  hnnir  is  used  to  signify  any  use- 
less employment. 

BujTette,  n.  (A.X.),  a  blow. 

Bumble,  v.  (A. a.),  to  make  a  htimming 
noise.  In  1.  r>.Yil  it  is  used  to  describe 
the  noise  made  by  :\  bittern. 

Rurdaun.  n.(A.x.),"a  humming  iioinc.  the 
tecs  in  uuiRic. 


Kitriels,  n.  pi.  (A.S.), 

Burned,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  Duniished. 

But,  couj.  and  prep.  (A. 8.).  mears  nrt 
only  but,  or  unless,  but  only,  and  wttb- 
out. 

Buxome,  adj.  (A.S.),  obedient,  civil,  bend- 
ing. 

Jiuxomly,  adv.  (A.S.),  obediently. 

By,  prep.  (Sax.),  has  sometimes  the  sig- 
nification of  in.  Fly  the  morwe,  in  the 
morning,  or  day-time.  It  is  sometime* 
used  adverbially.  Jiy  and  ly,  near, 
hard  by  ;  severally,  distinctly 

Caas,  n.  (A.X.),  a  case,  quiver. 

Cacche,  v.  (A.S.),  to  catch. 

Cadence,  n.  (A.X.),  a  species  ot  poetical 
composition  distinct  from  rhyming 
verses. 

Cayfif,  n.  and  adj.  (A.X.),  a  wretch, 
wretched ;  coward. 

Calcinacioun,n.  (\.y,\  a  chemical  pro- 
cess, by  which  bodies  are  reduced  to  a 
calx. 

Calculed,  pa-  t.  CA-^'-),  calculated. 

Calle,  n.  (A.X.),  a  species  of  cap. 

Camois,  adj.  (A.N.),  fiat-nosed. 

Campioun,  n.  (A.S.),  a  champion,  lighting 
man. 

Can,  v.  (A.S.),  knows. 

Caneva.t,  n.  (A.S.),  canTa^. 

Canon,  the  title  of  A  vicenne's  gn-at  work 

Cantel,  n.  (A.S.),  a  fragment,  part. 

Capel,  n.  (A.JO,  a  horse. 

Capitaine,  n.  (A.N.),  a  captain. 

Capitolie,  n.,  the  Capitol  at  liome. 

Carayn,  n.  (A.S.).  carrion. 

Cardiacle,  n.,  a  pain  about  the  heart. 

Car/,  pa.  t.  (A.S.),  cut. 

Carl,  n.  (A. s.),  a  churl,  a  hardy  country 
fellow. 

Carole,  n.  (A.X.),  a  dance  ;  v.,  to  dano«. 

Carpe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  talk. 

Caroiffne,  n.  (A.x),  carrion,  deader  putri- 
tied  flesh. 

Carrik,  n.  (A.N.),  a  large  ship. 

Carf,  n.  (A.S.),  a  chariot. 

Carter,  n.,  a  charioteer. 

Cas,  n.  (A.X.),  chance. 

Cast,  n.  (A.S.),  a  contrivance- 

Caste,  v.,  to  contrive. 

Caguel,  adj.  (A.X.),  accidental. 

Catapuce,  n.  (A.X.),  a  species  of  spurg*. 

Catel,  n.  (A.X.).  goo<ls. 

Catenr-ratced,log<m  a  cnterirrmrc d  oei-im 
to  signify  the  same  as  to  20  cate.-\\H-*l- 
ing,  as  it  is  called  in  modern  tini'j?-. 

Carillacitiun,  n.  (A-x.).  cavil. 

Celerer.  H.,  the  officer  in  a  nirm-igtery 
who  had  the  care  of  the  provisi.ti!?. 

Celle,  n.,  iv  religious  house. 

Censing,  part,  pr.,  fumigating  with  In- 
cense. 

Centaurif,  n.,  a  herb. 

Crrinl,  ftdj.  (A.X.),  belonging  to  a  t- 


GLOSSARY 


C*r*ce,  n.  (A.K.).  white  load. 

Chaffare,  n.  (A.s.),  merchandise  ;  v.,  to 

merchandise,  to  talk  loosely. 
Chalauns,  blankets,  or  coverlets,  made 

at  Chalons. 

Ckamai/le,  n.  (A-x.),  a  carael. 
fhambererf,  n.  (A.X.),  a  chambermaid. 
C/iampiirti/i',  n.  (A.X.),  a  share  of  land,  a 

partnership  in  power. 
I'hapmaii,  11.  (A. s.),  a  merchant  or  trader. 
Chapmaii/i«le,  n.  (A. 8.),  the  condition  of 

a  chapman,  or  tradesman  . 
Chare.,  n.  (A.X.),  a  chariot. 
CAar;/e,  n.  (A.X.),  a  load,  burthen,  bnsi-  j 

ness  of  weight :  it  nere  710  chari/e,  it  ! 

were  no  harm  ;  of  which   there  is   no  | 

charge,  from  which  there  is  no  conse- 
quence  to   be  expected  ;    of  Unit    no 

diary?,  no  matter  for  that. 
CKargeant,  pa'.t.,  burthensome. 
<  'kekere,  n.  (A.N.),  a  chess-board. 
t'hekelatouii.  a    corruption   of    ciclaton 

(from  the  Arabic),  a  rich  cljth  of  gold. 
Chtpe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  buy,  to  merchandise, 

to  cheapen. 
f'hepe,  n..  cheapness. 
Chert,  n.  (A.s-),  a  man  of  mean  birth  and 

condition. 

Cherllstt,  adj.,  churlish. 
Ches,  pa.  t.,  chose. 
(Vies,  n.  (A.X.),  the  came  of  chess. 
Chest,  v.  (A.S.),  to  choose. 
Chest,  n.  (A.X.),  acotliu. 
Chette,  n.  (A.S.),  debate. 
Chesteyn,  n.  (A.X.),  the  chestnut. 
Chece,  v.  (A.X.),  to  come   to  an  agree- 

meut,  or  conclusion. 
Chevtnleii,  n.  (A.X.),  chieftain. 
Chevlsaunce,  n.  (A.X.),  an  agreement  ror 

borrowing  of  money. 
Cfiidester,  n.  (A.S.),  a  female  scold. 
t'luerete,  11.  (A.X.),  tenderness,  alfectioa. 
Ctiymbt.1,  n.  (A.S.),  the  prominent  part  of 

the  staves  beyond  the  head  of  a  barrel. 
Chtmbe,  v.,  to  sound  in  consonance,  like 

bolls,  to  chime. 

('// 1  re  he-re  re,  n.  (A. 8.1,  a  church-warden. 
Ciiirchhfiire,  n.  (A. s.),  a  churchyara. 
Clnrke,  v.  (A.S.),  to  chirp,  as  a  sparrow 
Clurlcyny.  n.,  a  chirping  sound. 
L'.'iit,  rhideOi. 

Chii'acliie,  n.  (A.X.),  a  military  expedi- 
tion. 

Chyoalryt,  n.  (A.K.),  knighthood. 
Cite,  n.  (A.M.),  a  city. 
Citole,  n.  (A.N.),  a  musical  instrument. 
Cytryne,  adj.  (A.K.),  of  a  pale  yellow  or 

citron  color. 

Citrinattinm,  n.,  a  chemical  term. 
Clappe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  knock  repeatedly,  to 

talk  fast. 
Clapsiul,  clasped. 
Clarre.  n.  (A.N.),wliie  mixed  with  honey 

aud  apices,  and  afterwards  strained  till 

it  U   clear.      It  was  otherwise  called  | 

ptawot. 


Clatertden,  pa.  t.  pi.  of  clatter. 
Claw,  v.  (A.H.),  to  stroke,  to  rub. 
Clenncsse,  n.  (A.s.),  purity. 
Clepe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  call,  to  n.am». 
Cleryie,  n.  (A.N.),  tho  clerical  profcMlon 
C/eryial,  adj.,  learned. 
Cleryion,  n.,  a  young  clerk. 
Clerk,  n.  (A.N.),  one  who  has  rec^i?oc 

school  learning. 
Clifte,  n.  (A. s.),  a  cleft. 
Cltket,  n.  (A.M.),  a  latch-key. 
Clinke,  v.  (A.M.),  a  ring,  to 'tinkle. 
C/ippe,  v.  (A. s.),  to  cut  hair  :  to  uiiil-i*'  f. 
('lobbed,  adj.  (A.S.),  like  a  club. 
Cloyster,  n.  (A.X.),  a  cloister,  an  enci  .< 

ure. 
Clote-lefe,  a  leaf  of  the  burdock,  or  clct-> 

bur. 

Clotfml,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  clotted. 
Cloutes.  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  small  pieces. 
Cliim,  this  word  seems  to  bw  equivaleni 

to  "  silence." 

Clum'ien,  pa.  t.  pi.  of  climb. 
Coaftulfit,  part.  pa.  (Lat.),  curdled. 
Otckes   boims,  a    corruption    of   a   then 

familiar  oath,  God's  bones. 
Cod,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bag. 
Cufre,  n.  (A.N.),  a  chest. 
Coilons,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  testicles, 
f'oiv,  n.,  a  cook. 
Cok?n<it/,   a  diminutive  cock  ;    a  puny. 

we.akly  fellow. 
Cokeicultl,  n.,  a  cuckold. 
Co/  in   composition  is  used    in    a    bad 

sense,  as    colprophet,  a    false,    lying 

prophet. 

Cf>l/le,  v.  (A. s.),  to  grow  or  become  cokl. 
Coler,  n.  (A.N.),  a  collar. 
Colerd,  part.  pa.  collared,  wearing  col- 
lars. 

ColUicUmn,n.  (A.K.),  a  conference. 
Colti.isch,  adj.  (A.s.),  playful  as  ;j  colt. 
Columbine,  adj.    (hat.),   belonging   to  s 

dore,  dovelike. 
Combust,  adj.  (I.at.1,  burnt.    A  term  in 

astrology,  when  a  planet  is  not  more 

than  8C  30'  distant  from  the  sun. 
Commune,  n.   (A.N.),  commonalty  ;  can 

mimes,    n.    pi.,    comnioiiers,   couiiiioi> 

people. 

Compnignnble,  adj.  (A.N.),  sooiaWo. 
Compnm<-  for  romp'ir/ne,  '..  ?7C>9.     Put  <# 

the  sake  of  the  rh\  me. 
Com  pas,  n.  tA-x.1).  a  compass. 
Compnssinff,  n.,  a  contrivance. 
Compasxi1.  v.,  lo  contrivo. 
C">n/n're,    n.    (A.N.),    a    goss-ip,    a    at;*- 

friend. 
Complin,  comp !>in<l,  n.  (A.N.),  n\<»i«ciig 

the  la.nl  service  of  the  day,  sinking  is 

general. 

Conilexct-nrle,  v.  (A.X.),  to  yield. 
Confrcture,  11.  (A.X.),  comp<isitioE. 
Om'fu.t,  adj.,  (A.N.),  confounded. 
(Vmjitre,  v.  (A.N.),  to  adjure. 
Conne,  v.  (A. 8.),  to  know,  to  be  able. 


610 


GLOSSARY. 


Cvnsell,  n.  I'A.N.),  counsel. 

Consen'ant,  part-,  pr.,  consenting  to. 

Consent-,  V/(A.X.)  to  preserve. 

Consistory,  n.  (A.N.),  properly  an  eccle- 
siastical court,  but  sometimes  any 
court  of  justice. 

'Jontek,  n.  (A.s.),  contention. 

Cojwtenaunce,  n.  (A.X.),  appearance,  pre- 
tence. 

Contract,  part.  pa.  (Lat.),  contracted. 

Contrarie,  v.  (A.N.),  to  contradict. 

Cfintrariouf.  adj.  (A.X.),  opposite,  per- 
verse. 

Contrary,  n   (A.x.),  adversary. 

Contrefete,  v.  (A.N.),  to  counterfeit,  imi- 
tate. 

Contubemial,  adj.  (Lat.),  familiar. 

Cope,  11.  (A.X.),  a  cloak. 

Cop,  n.  (A.S.),  the  top  of  any  thing  ;  the 
head. 

Corage,  n.  (A.X.),  heart,  inclination, 
spirit,  courage. 

Cordewane,  n.  (A.X.),  Spanish  leather,  so 
called  from  Corduba. 

Corniculere,  n.  (Lat.),  an  officer  in  the 
Roman  government. 

Cornmuse,  n.  (A.X.),  a  bagpipe. 

Corny,  adj.  (A.s.),  strong  of  the  com,  or 
malt. 

Corcme,  n.  (A.X.),  a  crown,  or  garland. 

Corps,  n.  (A.x.),  body. 

Corpus,  n.  (Lat.),  body. 

Corumpable,  adj.  (A.x.),  corruptible- 

Corumpe,  v.  (A.X.),  to  corrupt. 

Corren,  part.  pa.  of  carve,  cut. 

Cosyn,  v.  (A-x.),  a  cousin. 

Cosinage,  n.  (A.X.),  kindred. 

Costage,  n.  (A.N.),  cost,  expense. 

Costleice,  adj.,  costly. 

Cote,  n.  (A. s.),  a  collage- 

Cote,  n.  (A.X.),  a  coat. 

Cotidien.  adj.  (A.X.),  daily. 

Couche,  v.  (A.X.).  to  lay  ;  couched,  part, 
pa.,  laid  c<~>uelied  with  perles,  laid,  or 
trimmed  with  pearls. 

Cou-de,  pa.  t.  of  conne,  (A.s.)  knew,  was 
able. 

f'orenable,  adj.  (A  N.),  convenient,  suit- 
able. 

Covert,  adj.  (A.x.),  secret,  covered. 

lovyne,  n.  (A.X.),  secret  contrivance. 

Crwlpe,  n.  (A.X.),  a  fault. 

Counterwayte,  v.  (A.N.),  to  watch 
against. 

Countonr,  n.  (A.x.),  a  counting-house  ; 
an  arithmetician. 

I'fnintretallle,  n.  (A.X.),  a  tally  answer- 
ing exactly  to  another.      Hence,  echo  j 
is  saiit  to  answer  at  the  cfuntrttallle. 

Cfiurtfpy.  a  short  cloak  of  coarse  cloth.     I 

Court-man,  a  courtier. 

Couthe,  pa.  t.  of  conne,  know,  was  able  ; 
part,  pa.,  known. 

CVaAr/ke,  T.  (A.x.),  to  crack. 

•Trakf,  T.  (A.e.)r  to  quaver  hoarsely  h 


Cracc.fiyng,  n.  (A.s.),  nerat^hlng. 
Crased,  part.  i>a.  (A..V.),  broken. 
Creaunce,  n.  (A. x.),  faith,  belief;  v.  tr 

borrow  money. 

Crevasse,  n.  (A.X.),  a  chink  or  crevice. 
Crisp,  adj.  (A.X.),  curled. 
Croce,  n.,  a  cross. 
Oois,  n.  (A.X.),  a  cross. 
Cromes,  n.  pi.  (A. 9.),  crumbs. 
Crone,  n.  (A.S.),  an  old  woman. 
Crope,  cropen,  part.  pa.  of  crepr.  oropt. 
Croppes,  n.  pi.  (A.S.).  the  extremities  d 

the  shoots  of  vegetables  :  now  in  th* 

crop,  now  ai  the  top  ;  croppe  anil  mte, 

root  and  branch,  the  whole  of  a  thing. 
Crosnelet,  n.  (A.X.),  a  crucible. 
Crouche,  v.  (A.S.),  to  sign  with  the  cross. 
Crowdej,  v.  (A.S.),  to  shove  together. 
Crouke,  n.  (A.s.),  an  earthen  pitcher. 
Croun,  n.  (A.X.),  the  crown  of  the  head. 
Croupe,  n.  (A.X.),  the  crupper. 
Crul,  adj.  (A.S.),  curled. 
Cucurbite.   n.   (Lat.),  a    gourd,  a  vessel 

shaped  like  a  gourd,  used  in  distil  1* 

tion. 
Cuirbouly,  n.  (A.X.),  leather  pvcpf.Ted  bj 

boiling,  used  in  making  a  variety  of 

articles. 

Culpmis,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  shreds,  logs. 
Curious,  adj.  (A.:O,  careful. 
Curleys,  adj.  (A.X  ),  courteous. 

/)a/,  n.  (A.S.),  a  fool. 

fJafffiril,  part,  pa.,  cut  into  slips. 

iJa'gi/ing,  n.,  slitting,  cutting  into  slips. 

Dayoun,  n.,  a  slip,  or  piece. 

Dampne,  v.  (A.N.),  to  condemn. 

Dun.  n.  (Lat.  tlominu.i\  lord,  a  title  com- 
monly given  to  monks. 

Dnwyer,  n.  (A.X.),  a  dangerous  situation; 
JH'«  man's  danger,  under  liability  to 
him. 

Danyerous,  adj.,  difficult. 

Dapple  gray,  the  color  which  is  called 
in  Fr.  pommele. 

Dare,  v.  (A.S.),  to  stare. 

Dereyne,  v.  (A.X.).  to  contest. 

Itiirt.  n.  (A.S.I,  a  spear  or  javelin. 

Dase,  v.  (A.S.),  to  grow  dimsightud. 

Daunte,  v.  (A.N.),  to  conquer. 

I)aice,  v.  (A.s.),  to  dawn. 

Dawcning,  n.  (A.s.),  daybreak. 

J)awcf,  n'.  pi.  for  l)ayes. 

Debate,  v.  (A.X.).  to  light. 

Df.hnnaire,  adj.  (A.X.).  courteoug,  g«?Dtlfc 

Dedhi,  ndj.  (A.s.),  devoted  to  death , 
fatal. 

/teiluit,  n.  (A.X.),  pleasure. 

/^e^f/,  adj.  (A.S.),  dead. 

Dffame,  n.  (A.N.),  infancy  ;  v.,  tc  oiaku 
infamous. 

Di-fautcs,  n.  pi.  (A.x.),  drfects. 

Defends,  v.  (A.x.),  to  forbid. 

Defence,  n.  VA-N.),  prohibition. 

Dfnri  n.  (A.X.),  a  step. 

fJemouM,  adj.  (A.N.), 


GLOSSARY, 


Drynti,  n.  (A.N.),  value,  a  tiling  of 
value ;  had  deynte,  valued  highly  ; 
t&.de  no  dei/nte  of,  set  no  value  upon  ; 
it  was  deynte,  it  was  a  valuable  tiling. 

D'ljntevous,  adj.,  choice,  valuable. 

iM-ys,  n.  (A.X.),  the  place  of  the  hij'h 
table  in  the  hall,  th<!  high  tabte  itself. 

Del,  11.  (A.S.),  a  part,  bit. 

Di:le,y,  (A.S.),  to  divide. 

Detibere,  v.  (A.N.),  *o  deliberate. 

tie'ices,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  delights. 

J),Ilt,  n.  (A.X.),  delight. 

/h'litttlt',  adj.   (A.X.),  delectahle. 

IM'tfci-f  adj.  (A.N.).  nimble. 

Deliver  ly,  adv.,  quickly. 

Delivernes,  n.,  agility. 

Demaine,  n.  (A.X.),  management. 

Deme,  v.  (A.S.),  to  judge. 

Departs,  v.  (A.X.),  to  part,  to  distribute. 

Depeint,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  painted. 

Dere,  v.  (A.S.),  to  hurt. 

7>ere,  adj.  (A.S.),  dear. 

Jtereling,  M.,  darling. 

Dereworth,  adj.  (A.S.),  precious,  valued 
at  a  high  rate. 

Iierne,  adj.  (A.S-),  secret. 

Derre,  comp.  of  r/«-e,  dearer. 

Dexcensorie,  11.  (A.X.),  a  vessel  used  in 
chemistry  for  the  extraction  of  oils 
per  descensum. 

Descriven,  v.  (A.X.),  to  describe. 

Desirous,  adj.  ( A. x.),  eager. 

Despite,  n.  (A. x.),  malicious  anger. 

Despilous,  adj.,  angry  to  excess. 

Despltously,  adv.,  angrily. 

Jtespoile,  v.  (A.X.),  to  undress. 

Destreyne,  v.(A.x.),  to  vex,  to  constrain. 

Destrer,  n.  (A.X.),  a  war-horse. 

Destruye,  v.  (A.X.),  to  destroy. 

Detteles,  adj.,  free  fromidebt- 

7)ece,  adj.  (A.S.),  deaf.    ' 

Devynyng,  n.  (A.X.),  divination. 

Dery.tr,  n.  (A.X."),  direction;  v.,  to  direct, 
to  order,  to  relate  :   at  poynt  devys,  \ 
with  the  greatest  exactness. 

Deroir,  n.  (A.X-),  duty. 

/.>«//,  11.,  a  species  of  labor,  perhaps  a  j 
day-laborer. 

Deije,  v.  (A.S.),  to  die. 

/Jci/er,  n.  (A. s,),  a  dyer. 

I  tide,  pa-  t.  of  </o  •  did  en,  pi.,  did. 

Difl'ame,  n.  (A.X.),  l)ad  reputation. 

Digit!,  v.  (A.S.),  to  dispose,  to  dress. 

Diane,  adj.  (A.X.),  worthy,  proud,  dis- 
dainful. 

/>ite,  v.  (Sax.),  to  dig,  to  make  ditches. 

Dilatacioun,  n.  (A.X.),  enlargement. 

Dtearray,  n.  (A.>*.),  disorder. 

Discomfort,  n.  (A.X.).  displeasure. 

Discomforten,  v.  (A.N.),  to  discourage. 

Dlscocerte,  adj.  (A.X.).  «<  discoetrte,  un- 
covered. 

f>istfgurt;  n.  (A.x.t,  deformity. 

Disfiere/e,  part.  pa.  (.A.X.),  with  bail- 
hanging  loose. 

Ditjoint,  n,  (A.X.),  a  difficult  situation. 


Dialace,  adj.  (A.X.),  filthy,  impure. 
DiKordeincd,  part,  pa.,  disorderly. 
1  lisordhutte ,  adj.,  disorderly. 
Disparage,  n.,  a  disparagement. 
Dispence,  n.,  expense. 
JJispitous,  adj.,  angry  to  excess. 
Disport,  n.,  sport,  diversion. 
Mxpreixitig,  part,  pa.,  undervaluing. 
Disputigoun,  n.  (A.N.),  dispute. 
J)ixsimule,  v.  (A.X.),  to  dissemble. 
Dixtreijne,   n.,   to   constrain.     See   Z>€* 

<rei/(e. 

Distrouble,  v.,  to  disturb. 
])yvyniatre,  n.  (A.N.).  a  di\ine. 
JJoyerel,  a  >j.,  "  derived.''  says  Tyrwhitt, 
'•  1  suppose,  from  dog  ;  so   that  rime- 
dogerel  may   be  undt-rstood  lo  mean 
wh"t  in  French  mijjbt  be  called  rtwe 
(/e  ckien.      See  Cotgrave  iu  v.  C/iieit. 
Chose  de    cliien,   a  paultrie   thing,  a 
trifle,  trash,  truniperie." 
Doyyefor  thv  boice,  a  dog  used  in  shoot- 
ing. 

/>(>/.•(',  n.  (A.S.),  a  duck. 
Dolren,  part.  pa.  of  (/etoe, buried, digged. 
Domb,  adj.  (,.\..s.),  dumb. 
Dome,  doom,  n.  (A.S.),  judgment,  opinion. 
Domesman,™.  (A.S.),  a  judge. 
Donet,  n.,  a  grammar  ;  the  elements  of 

any  art. 
Donna,  don,  adj.  (Y.S.),    <-'f  a  brown  or 

dun  color. 
7>ooH,  3d  p.  pi.  of  the  present,  they  do  ; 

part,  pa.,  done  ;  inf.,  to  do. 
Dormant,   part.    pr.    (Fr.),    fixed  :    table, 
dorinitnt,  1.  355,  a  stationary  table  in 
the  ball,  not  one  made  for  the  occasion 
by  placing  a  board  on  trestles 
Dortour,  n.  (A.N.I,  a  dormitory,  or  com- 
mon sleeping  room. 
fjoseyn,  n.  (A.X.),  a  dozen. 
Dote,  v.  (A.S.),  to  be  foolish,  through  ag* 

or  otherwise. 
Do/li,  do  ye. 

Doi/f/litrcn,  n.  pi.  (A.s.1),  daughters. 
Doute,  v.   (A.N.),  to  Tear. 
Doufe/t'ti,  adv.,  without  doubt. 
Doicayrv,  n.  (A.X.),  dower. 
Draddt,  drad,  pa.  t.  jind  part,  of  drede, 

feared. 

Dr<if,  n.  (A.S.\  things  thrown  away,  as 
unlit  for  man's  food  :  driif-xal:.  a  sack 
full  of  draf . 
Dnifn/,   adj.,  of  no  more    value    thai; 

draf. 

Draggex,  n.  pi.,  drugs. 
Drede,  n.  (A.S.),  fear,  doubt  :    iri/houteii 
drt'ile,  without  doubt  ;  outofdrt-ile,  out 
of  doubt. 

Drede,  v.  (A.S.),  to  fear. 
Dn-i'ful,  a  j.,  timorous. 
Drei/nt,  pa.  t.  and  part,  of  dicnchf, 

drowned. 
Di\-nche,  v.  (A.S.),  to  drown  ;  v.  neut.,  tc 

be  drowned. 
Drtsse,  v.  (A.X.).  to  address,  apply. 


612 


GLOSS  ART. 


Dronkelewe,  adj.  (A.S.),  given  to  drink. 

Dronke,  drunk. 

Drough,  pa.  t.  of  draw,  drew. 

firovy,  adj.  (A.S.),  dirty. 

Druerie,  n.  (A.N.),  courtship,  gallantry, 

love  ;  a  mistress. 
Drugge,  v.  (A.S.),  to  drag. 
Dulilfd,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  created    knight. 

The  phrase  is  derived  from  the  stroke, 

with  a  sword  or  otherwise,  which  was 

always  a  principal  ceremony  at  the 

creation  of  a  knight. 
Vuete.,   n.  (A.X.),  duty  ;  what  is  due  to 

any  one. 
Jjulle,  v.  act.  (A.S.),  to  make  dull ;  v. 

iieut.,  to  grow  dull. 
I>ure,  v.  (A.X.),  to  endure. 
Duske,    pa-  t.  (A.S.),  to  grow  dark,  or 

dim. 
Dwale,  n.  (A.s.),  a  sleeping-potion. 

Ebrayk,  adj.,  Hebrew. 

Eche,  adj.  (A.S.),  each,  every. 

Effect,  n.  (A.X.),  substance. 

Eft,  adv.  (A-S.),  again. 

Eftsone,  eftsones,  adv.  (A.s.),  soon  after, 
presently. 

Egallte,  11.  (A.N.),  equality. 

Eger,  eyre,  adj.  (A.N.).  sharp. 

Egge,  v.  (A.S.),  to  incite. 

Element,  n.,  incitement. 

Egging,  n.,  inciting,  incitement. 

Egremoine,  n.  (A.X.),  agrimony. 

Eyyli  n,  ei/ghne,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  eyes. 

Ei/r,  n.  (A.X.),  air. 

Elat,  part.  pa.  (Lat.\  elated. 

Elde,  n.  (A.S.),  old  age. 

Elenye,  adj.  (A.s.),  strange  ;  dull,  cheer- 
less ;  weighed  down  with  care. 

Elf,  n.   (A.s.l,  a  witch,  a  fairy. 

Elles,  adv.  (A.s.),  else  ;  elles  what,  any- 
thiiig  else. 

Elvish,  adj.  (Sax.),  fairy-like,  fantastic: 
sometimes  it  seems  to  signify  shy,  re- 
served. 

Emboyssement,  n.  (A.X.),  ambush. 

Embrowdid,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  embroi- 
dereil. 

Erne,  n.  (A.S.),  an  uncle. 

Empeire,  v.  (A.x  ),  to  impair,  hurt. 

Emplastre,  v.  (A.X.),  to  plaster  over. 

E'niprisi',  n.  (A.X.),  an  undertaking. 

Embrace,  v.  (A.X.),  to  take  hold  of. 

Enchnujinri,  n.  (A.X.),  heat. 

Enchexoun.  n.  (A.N.),  cause,  occasion. 

Encor/whig,  part.  pr.  (A.X.),  incorpo- 
rating. 

Etulelong,  prep.  (A.S.),  along  ;  endlange, 
adv.,  lengthways. 

Endite,  v.  (A.N.),"  to  dictate,  relate. 

Enforce,  v.  (A.X.),  to  strengthen. 

Enforced,  [tart,  pa.,  constrained  by  force. 

Enyei>:lrure.  ;i.  (A. N.).  generation. 

Engined,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  racked,  tor- 
tured. 

fngreyye,  v.  (A.X.),  to  aggravate. 


Enqyn,  n.  (A.N.),  ingenuity,  genius. 

Ennaunse,  v.  (A.X.),  i  o  raise. 

Enhort,  v.  (A.X.),  to  exhort. 

Enleven  (A.S.),  eleven. 

Enlumine,  v.  (A.X.),  to  illuminate. 

Enoynt,  part.  pa.  (A.N.),  anointed. 

Enspire,  v.  (A.N.),  to  inspire. 

Ensure,  v.  (A.N.),  to  assure. 
|  Entend,  v.  (A.X.),  to  attend, 
i  Enlendtment,  n..  understanding. 
1  Entente,  n.  (A.Jf.),  intention. 
I  Ententif,  adj.  (A.N.),  attentive. 
!  Entremet,  v.  (A.X.),  to  interpose. 
i  Entre,  n.  (A.X.),  entry. 
j  Entuned,  part,  pa.,  tuned. 

Envenyme,  v.  (A.X.),  to  poison. 

Envoluped,  part.  pa.  (A.x.),  wrapt  up. 

Envyned,  stored  with  wine. 

.£«(/,  adj.,  any. 

Eorihe,  n.  (A.S.),  earth. 

.EV,  adv.  (A.s.),  before,  before  that. 

Erche,  for  arch,  as  erchebischop,  <ftc. 

£re,  v.  (A.s.),  to  plough. 

Erme,  v.  (A.s.),  to  grieve. 

Ermeful,  pitiful. 

Ermin.  adj.,  Armenian. 

Ernesfful,  adj.,  serious. 

Erraunt,  part.  pr.  (A.X.),  strolling,  ap- 
plied to  a  thief. 

Ers,  erse,  n.  (A.S.),  the  fundament. 

Er.it,  adv.  superl.  of  er,  first :  a<  ers^,  for 
the  first  time. 

Eschawfyng,   eschaiifyng,    part.   (A.3f.), 
heating. 

Escltieu,  eschue,  v.   (A.x.),  to  shun,  to 
decline. 

-Ese,  11.  (A.N.),  pleasure. 

Ese,  v.,  to  accommodate ;  to  ease,  give 
pleasure. 

Esement,  n.,  relief. 

Espiaile,  n.(A.N.),  spying,  private  watch- 
ing. 

Essoyne,  n.  (A.N.),  a  legal  excuse. 

Estat,  estaat,  n.  (A.X.),  state,  condition, 
administration  of  government. 

Estat/ich,  adj.  (A.N.),  stately. 

Estrcs,  n.  pi.  (A.x.),  the  iiiward  parts  of 
a  building. 

Eterne,  adj.  (Lat.),  everlasting. 

Erangiles,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  gospels. 

Even',  adj.  (A.S.),  equal  :  an  euen-cristeii, 
a  fellovv-christian. 

Everich,  adj.  (A.S.),  every  one  of  many; 
each  of  two. 

EriTi/chon,  every  one. 

Ew,  n.  (A.s.),  yew. 

E.raltdt,  part-  pa.  (Lat.),  exalted. 

Exame.trnn  is  explained  by  the  context 
to  signify  a  verse  of  six  feet. 

Executour,  n.  (A.X.),  executioner. 

Eij,  n.  (A.S.),  an  egg  :  a  grypes  eye.  & 
jrriftin's  egg. 

Eijen,  pi.,  eyes. 

Fterie,  n.  (A.N.).  the  people  of  fairiaa. 
enchantment,  the  work  of  fairies. 


fain  (A.S.),  glad. 

Fame,  adv.,  gladly. 

favour,  n.  (A.N.),  a  lazy,  idle  fellow. 

Faldyny,  n.,  a  kind  of  coarse  cloth. 

Falsen,  v.  (A.X.),  to  falsify,  to  deceive. 

Fallen,  adj.  (A.S.),  yellow. 

Falwes,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  fallow  lands. 

Fnmti/ere,  adj.  (Lat.),  domestic. 

/'iH,  n.,  a  vane,  the  quintaine,  or  post 
with  a  movable  top,  which  is  called  a 
fan  or  vane,  from  its  turning  round 
like  a  weathercock. 

Fande,  pa.  t.  ot.tinde.  found. 

Fane,  n.,  a  weathercock. 

Fanlasie,  n.  (A.N.),  fancy. 

Fantom,  n.  (A.N.),  any  false  imagina- 
tion. 

fare,  v.  (A.S.),  to  go  ;  to  fare  welle,  to 
speed,  to  be  happy. 

Fare,  n.,  seems  to  have  been  derived 
from  the  French  \.faire,  whenever  it 
can  be  interpreted  by  the  word  ado. 
This  note /cure,  for  which  the  wardein 
chidde  and  made  fare;  what  amount- 
eth  all  this  fare .'  betwixt  us  two 
nedeth  no  strange  fare ;  and  leve  this 
nice  fare. 

Parse,  v.  (A.X.),  to  stuff, 

Faute,  n.  (A.X.),  want. 

Fawe,  adj.  (A.S.),  glad. 

Fay,  11.  (A.X.),  fwith. 

Fecche,  v.  (A.s.),  to  fetch. 

Fee,  n.  (A.S.),  money  ;  goods, 

Feyne,  v.  (A.X.),  to  feign. 

Fel,  adj.  (A.S.),  cruel,  destructive. 

Fi'law,  n.  (A.S.),  fellovf,  companion. 

F,-ld,  n.  (A.  «.),  afield. 

Fele,  adj.  (A.S.),  many. 

/We,  v.  (A.S.),  to  feel,  to  have  sense,  to 
perceive. 

Felonie,  n.  (A.X.),  all  sorts  of  criminal 
violence. 

Femiiiie,  pr.  n.,  the  country  of  Ama- 
zons. 

Femhiite,  n.  (A.X),  womanhood. 

Feend,  11.  (A.S.),  an  enemy,  the  devil. 

Frendly,  adj.,  devilish. 

/•'(-?•,  adv.  (A.S.),  far  ;/erre,  further  ;  fer- 
nat,  superl.,  furthest. 

Peril,  fered,  part.  pa.  of  fare,  terrified. 

Fi-rtl,  ferde,  pi.  ferden,  pa.  t.  of  fare, 
went. 

Fen,  11.  (A.S.),  a  companion,  a  mate  ;  in 
fere,  together,  in  company. 

Fere,  n.  (A.S.),  fear  ;  v.,  to  terrify. 

Ferforth,  f erf ort  lily,  adv.  (A.S.),  far 
forth. 

Ftrly,  adj.  (A.S.),  ut range. 

Fermaci/e.  for  pharmacie,  n.  (A.N.),  a 
medicine. 

Farme,  n.  (A.N.),  a  farm. 

Fermerere,  n.  (Lat.).  the  ofJlcer  in  a  re- 
ligious house  who  had  the  care  of  tl'e 
infirmary. 

Fern,  adj.  (A.S.),  distant. 

f'erne,  adv.  (A.s.),  before. 


Fers,  adj.  (A.X.),  fierce. 

Perth,  fourth. 

Per  here,  adv.  (A.s.),  further. 

Fet'thiny,  n.  (A. 8.),  a  farthing,  i.  e..  fourth 
ing  ,  any  very  small  thing,  or  quantity 

Feste,  n.  (A.x.),  feast. 

Festeyhif/.  part.  pr.  (A.X.),  feasting. 

Festly,  adj.,  used  to  fe;ists. 

Festne,  v.  (A.s.),  to  fasten. 

Feet,  u.  (A.X.),  work.  i>erfornianee. 

Fetus,  adj.,  well  made,  neat. 

Fetysly,  adv.,  neatly,  properly. 

-Fef,  /e««,  part.  pa.  of  fi-cche,  fetdiec 
brought. 

Fey,  n.  (A.N.),  faith. 

Feiine,  v.  (A.N.),  to  make  a  pass  in  ft-Ti 
ing,  to  fence. 

Fll,  pa.  t.  of  fall,  fell. 

Fi/nch,  n.  (A.S.),  a  s"  all  bird.  To  pull 
a  tinch  was  a  proverbial  expression 
signifying  to  strip  a  man,  by  fraud,  of 
his  money,  &c. 

Pipit,  tindeth. 

Fyn,  n.  (A.X.),  end. 

Fine,  v.  (A.X.),  to  cease. 

Fi/t,  n.  (A.S.),  a  division  or  short  por- 
tion of  a  poem. 

Fit hul,  n.  (A.S.),  a  fiddle. 

Fixe,  adj.  (A.N.),  fixed. 

Flayne,  part.  pa.  of  flaye,  v.  (A.s.), 
flayed. 

platour,  n.  (A.N.),  a  flatterer. 

Flecked,  adj.  (A.s.),  spotted. 

Fie,  v.  neut.  (A.S.),  to  fly. 

Fleen,  11.  pi.  (A.s.),  fleas. 

Fleme,  v.  (A.S.),  to  banish. 

plemer,  n.,  one  who  banishes. 

Flete,  v.  (A.S.),  to  float,  to  swim. 

Flicker,  v.  neut.  (A.s.),  to  flutter. 

/•'/(/,  v.  neut.  (A.s.),  to  iiy. 

Flo,  n.  (A.S.),  an  arrow  ;  Jl<me,  pi. 

Flokmel,  adv.  (A.S.),  in  a  flock. 

F/oi/te,  n.  (A.N.),  a  flute. 

Fi'orein,  pr.  n.,  a  species  of  gold  coin. 

Flotery.  adj.  (A.S.),  floating. 

Floured,  v.  (A.N.),  flourished. 

Flowting,  playing  on  the  lliue. 

Foyne,  v.  (A.N.),  to  make  a  pass  in  fenc- 
ing ;  to  push. 

Fnyaoun,  n.  (A.N.),  abundance. 

Folid.  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  foaled. 

Pole-large,  adj.  foolishly  liberal. 

Fnh/e,  n.  (A.X.).  folly. 

Polity,  adv.,  foolishly. 

Folwe,  v.  (A.S.)  to  follow. 

Fond,  pa.  t.  of  jinde,  found, 

Fonde,\.  (A.s.)'.  to  try. 

Fiini',  n.  pi.,  foes. 

Fonye,  v.  (A.S.).  to  take. 

/•'OH,  n.  (A.s.).  a  fool. 

Foot-hoot,  immediately. 

Foot-mantel,  probably  a  sort  of  riding- 
petticoat,  such  as  is  still  used  by  mar- 
ket-women. 

F»r.  in  compositiontwitli  verbs,  answer' 
ing  to  the  German  ver-,  gives  in 


614 


GLOSSARY. 


words  an  intensitive,  and  in  others  a 

privative     signification,    and   always 

communicates  a  destructive  sense. 
Forboden,  part.  pa.  of  forbtde,  v.  (A.s.), 

forbidden. 
For-brused,    part.    pa.   v.    (A.s.),  sorely 

bruised. 
Force,  n.  (A.x.) :  no  force,  no  matter  ;  / 

do  no  farce,  I  care  not. 
for-cutte,  \.  (A.s.),  to  cut  through. 
For-<lo,  v.  (A.S.),  to  do  away,  to  ruin. 
f'or-don,for-do,  part,  pa.,  undone. 
For-drunken ,     part.      pa.     (A.S.),    very 

drunken. 

For-dry,  adj.  (A.s.),  very  dry. 
For-dwined,    part.     pa.     (A.s.),    wasted 

away. 

Foreweting,  n.  (A.s.),  foreknowledge. 
Forewete,forwote,  v.,  to  foreknow. 
Forfaite,  v.  (A.N.),  to  misdo  ;  to  forfeit- 
For-fare,   \.  (A.X.),  to  fare  ill. 
For-fered,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  much  afraid. 
For-gon,  inf.  v.  (A-s.),  to  omit,  to  lose. 
For-growen,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  overgrown. 
For-kerue,  v.    (A.s.),    to    carve    or   cut 

through. 

For-Iaft,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  left  off  entirely. 
For-lcse,  v.  (A.s.),  to  lose  entirely. 
For-Iete.  v.  (A.S.),  to  give  over,  to  quit  ; 

to  forsake. 

For-lore,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  utterly  lost. 
Forme,  adj.  (A.s.),  first. 
Fornays,  n.  (A. jr.),  a  furnace. 
For-pyned,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  wasted  away, 

tormented. 
For-s/euthe,    for-slonthe,  for-slugge,    v. 

(A.s.),  to  lose  through  sloth. 
Forster,  n.  (A.N.),  a  forester. 
for-straught,  part.  pa.  (A. s.),  distracted. 
Forthby,  adv.  (A.s.),  forward  by. 
Fnr-thinkc,  v.  (A.s.),  to  repent. 
For-thought,  pa.  t.  offor-thinke. 
•  Forth;/,  conj.  (A.S.),  therefore. 
For-troden,   part.    pa.    of  for-trede,  v. 

(A.s.),  trodden  down. 
Fortune,  v.  (A.N.),  to  make  fortunate,  to 

give  good  or  bad  fortune. 
For-waked,  part,  pa.  (A.S.),  weary  with 

being  awake. 
For-wandred,    part.    pa.    (A.S.),   having 

wandered  long. 

Forward,  n.  (A.s.),  a  promise,or  covenant. 
For-wrapped,  part,  pa.,  wrapped  up. 
For-yelae,  v.  (A.s.),  to  repay. 
Fostred,  part.  pa.  (A.S,),  nourished. 
Fostryng,  n..  nutriment. 
Father,  11.  (A.S.),  a  carriage-load,  an  in- 
definite large  quantity. 
Fou'e,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bird. 
Found,  pa.  t.  ofjinde,  supplied. 
Foandred,  pa.  t.  (A.N.),  fell  down. 
Fowel,  n.  (A.N.),  a  fowl,  a  bird. 
Pro  for  /ro,  prep.  (A.S.),  from  :  til  and 

fra,  to  and  fro. 

Franchise,  n.   (A.s.),  frankness,  gener- 
osity 


Frank,   n.,  a  denomination    of  French 

money. 

Frankeleyn,  n.  (A.x.).  Fortescue,  de  L. 

L.  Aug.  c.  29,  describes  a  f  ranklaiu  to 

be  a  pater  fainilias— magnis   ditatus 

possessionibus,  a  father  of  a  family 

enriched  with  great  possessions.    He 

is  classed  with,   but  after,   the   Milef 

i     and    Armiger;    and   is   distinguished 

!      from   the   Libere  tenentes.  free  leiu 

!      ants,  and  Valecti  ;  though,  as  it  would 

j      seem,  the  only  real  distinction  between 

him  and  other  freeholders  consisted  in 

the  largeness  of  his  estate. 

'  Fraught,    v.    (A.S.),  to    freight,   load  a 

ship. 

I  Fre,  adj.  (A.s.),  willing,  unconstrained, 
j      at  liberty,  liberal,  bountiful. 
freknes,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  spots,  freckles. 
Fn-tte,  n.  (A.N.),  frailty. 
Fremde,  Fremed,  adj.  (A.S.),  strange. 
Frere,  n.  (A.  jr.),  a  friar. 
Frete,  v.  (A.S.),  to  eat,  devour ;  frete, 

part,  pa.,  eaten. 
Freyne,  v.  (A.S.),  to  ask. 
Fro'te,  v.  (A .jr.),  to  rub. 
Fructuous,  adj.  (A.  jr.),  fruitful. 
Fruitestere,  n.,  a  female  seller  of  fruit. 
Ful-drive,  part,  pa.,  fully  driven,  com 

pleted. 

Fulliche,  adv.,  fully. 
Fulsomnes,  n.  (A.S.),  satiety. 
Fumetere,  pr.  n.  of  a  plaint :  fumitory. 
Fumosite,  n.  (A.JT  ),  fumes  arising  front 

excessive  drinking. 
Fundament,  n.  (A. jr.),  foundation. 
Furial,  adj.  (A.  jr.),  raging. 
Fusible,  adj.,  capable  of  being  melted. 

Gabbe,  v.  (A.  jr.),  to  jest ;  to  talk  idly  ;  to 

lie. 

Gadling,  n.  (A  s.),  an  idle  vagabond. 
Gadred,  part,  pa.  (A  s.),  gathered. 
Gaylard,  adj.,  (A. Jr.),  gay  licentious. 
Gaitre-beries,  berries  of    the  dog-wood 

tree. 

Gale,  v.  (A.s.),  to  crie,  to  sing. 
Galynqale,  pr.  n.,  sweet  cyperus. 
Galoche,  n.  (A. jr.),  a  shoe. 
Galpe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  gape,  to  yawn. 
Galwes,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  the  gallows. 
Gan,  pa.  t.  (A.s.l,  began  ;  gannen,  pi. 
Gane,  v.  (A.s.),  to  yawn. 
Gar,  \.  (A-s  ),  to  make. 
Gargate,  11.  (A. jr.),  the  throat. 
Garnisoun,  n.  (A. jr.),  a  guard,  01   gtrri' 

son. 

Gate,  n.  (A.s.),  a  way. 
Gattothud,  goat-toothed. 
Gaude,  n.  JA.JT.),  jest ;  yaudes,  pi.,  ridi* 

ulous  tricks. 
Gaule,  v.  (A.s.),  to  yell. 
Gaure,  v.  (A.s.),  to  stare. 
Geant,  n.  (A.N.),  a  giant. 
Gent,  adj.  (A. jr.),  neat,  pretty. 
Genterye,  n.  (A.JT.),  gentility. 


GLOSSARY. 


Genlil,  adj.  (A.x.),  civil,  liberal,  gentle- 
manlike. 

Gentilnes,  n.,  civility,  gentility. 

Geponn,  n.  (A.X.),  a  short  cassock. 
.  Gere,  11.  (A.s.j.al!  torts  of  instruments  of 
cookery,  of  war,  of  apparel,  of  chem- 
istry :  In  liere  ijiteynte  geres,  1.  15&i,  in 
their  strange  fashions. 

Gery,  (jarful  (A. N.),  changeable. 

Hesse,  v.  (A.s.),  to  guess. 

Gent,  11.  (A.S.).  a  guest. 

Geste,  \.  (A.S.),  to  relate  gestes,  or  ad- 
ventures. 

Gestes,  n.  pi.,  actions,  adventures. 

Gestour,  n.,  a  relater  of  gestes. 

Get,  n.  (A.x.i,  fashion,  behavior:  With 
that  false  yet,  with  that  cheating  con- 
trivance. 

Gye,  v.,  \A  ,s.),  to  rule  ;  to  guide. 

Gi/lour,  :i.  (A.X.),  a  deceiver. 

G'ilt,  n.  (A.s.1,  guilt- 

Giltele*.  adj..  free  from  guilt. 

GiW/;  adj.,  guilty. 

(Jin,  n.  (A.X.).  engine,  contrivance. 

Gipser,  n.  (A.x.),  a  poucn  or  purse. 

G]ipou»,\\.  ;  see  ycpoun. 

Girde.  v.  (.\. s.),  to  strike,  to  smite. 

Girt,  part.  pa.  of  gtrde;  thunjh  girt, 
smitten  through. 

Gi/se,  n.  (A.N.),  guise,  fashion. 

Gyte,  n.  (A.X.),  a  gown. 

Gitertie,  n.  (A.x.i,  a  guitar. 

Glade,  v.  (A.s.),  to  make  glad. 

Gladsom,  adj..  pleasant. 

Gle,n.  (A.S.),  mirth,  music  :  the  perform- 
ance of  :he  minstrelsor  glee-men. 

Gleedc,  n.  (A.s.),  a  burning  coal ;  a  spark 
of  tire. 

Gleyre,  n.  (A.N.),  the  white  of  an  egg. 

Glintfing  n.,  glimmering. 

Glitrri'ti,  pr.  t  pi.  of  glitcr,  v.(A.s.),  they 
glitter. 

Glodf,  pa.  t.  of  glide. 

Glose,  n.  (A.N.),  a  comment,  or  interpre- 
tation ;  v.,  to  comment  or  interpret; 
to  speak  tenderly  ;  to  Hatter. 

Glotreden,  pa.  t.  pi.  (A.s.),  they  glowed. 

Gnarre,  n.  (A  s.),  a  hard  knot  in  a  tree. 

Gnat,  n.  (A.S.I,  is  put  for  any  little 
•worthless  thing. 

Gnnf,  \\.,  an  old  cuff,  a  miser.  Gloss. 
U'r. 

Giioirt',  pa.  t.  (A.S.),  g  awed. 

Go,  v.  (A.s  \  means  sometimes  to  walk, 
in  contradistinction  to  riding. 

Gobft,  n.  (A.x.'i.  a  morsel,  a  bit. 

Good-les,  adj.,  without  money  or  goods. 

Godxik,  11.  (A.s.),  a  gossip,  a  godfather. 

Gold-heten,  adj.  (A.s.),  of  beaten  gold. 

Goldsmlthry,  n.  (A.  s.),  goldsmith's 
work. 

Gitliardi'is,  n.  (A.v.1,  a  low  class  of  so- 
ciety in  the  middle  ages,  who  lived 
upon  the  sujK  rNuity  of  the  richer. 

Son,  inf.  in.  (A-s.i,  to  go  ;  pr.  t  pi.,  they  i 
go  ;  purt.  pa.,  youe. 


Gonge,  n.  (A.s.),  a  Jakes,  a  privy. 

Gonnen,  goniie,  pa.  t.  pi.  01  yinitr,  begun. 

Gore,  ii.v  a  common  name,  for  a  slip  of 
<-loth  or  linen  wider  at  the  bottom  I!MII 
at  the  top,  which  is  inserted  in  order 
to  widen  a  garment  in  any  particular 
place. 

Gossamer,  n.,  a  thin  cobweb-like  sub- 
stance which  liies  about  in  the  air. 

Gosf,ii.  (A.s.),  spirit,  mind. 

Gotli,  imp.  in.  lid.  pers.  pi.,  go  ye. 

Gourd,  n.,  a  vessel  to  carry  liquor  ;  per- 
haps so  called  from  its  shape. 

Guoernayle,  n.  (.A.X.),  government,  steer- 
age. 

Gowne-cloth,  cloth  enough  to  make  a 
gown, 

Grace,  n.  (A.x.),  favor  ;  sory  f/rncf,  liarde 
grace,  misfortune. 

Gracious,  adj.  (A.N.),  agreeable,  gr?ce- 
ful. 

Grame,  n.  (A.s.),  grief,  anger. 

Graunge,  n.  (A.x.),  a  farm-house. 

Grave  (graccii),  part,  pa.,  buried. 

Gree,  n.  (A.x.),  pleasure,  satisfaction  ;  to 
receyi-e  in  grei;  to  take  kindiy ;  the 
f/ree,  the  prize  ;  also_  a  step  or  degree, 
from  the  Latin  gradus. 

Grade,  v.  (A.s.),  to  cry. 

Greythe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  prepare,  make 
ready. 

Grefhed,  n.  (A.x.).  grief. 

Grees,  n.  (A.x.),  grease. 

Grette,  pa.  t.  (A.s.),  greeted,  saluted. 

Grrren,  n.  pi.  (A-s.\  groves. 

Grint,  grindeth. 

Grinte,  ])a.  t..  ground  :  t/r>/nfe  irith  his 
teeth,  gnashed  with  his  teeth  ;  grinting, 
11.,  grinding,  gnashing. 

Grys,  n.  (A.x.),  a  species  of  far  of  the 
better  sort. 

Gritl y,  adj.  (A.S.I,  dreadful. 

Grncch(',v.  (A.s.),  to  grudge,  to  murmur. 

Groiiu;  n.  (A.X.),  the  snout  of  a  swine, 
a  hanging  lip. 

drone,  v.  (A.x.),  to  groan,  to  grunt; 
grant,  pa.  t.,  groaned. 

Grope,  v.  (A.S.),  to  search,  to  examine  by 
feeling, 

Grot,  n.,  a  coin  worth  fourpenco. 

Grr>unden,pa.Tt.  pa.  <>f  grind. 

firoi/ni)ig,  n.,  discontent. 

Grnf.  adj.  (A.s.),  rlat  on  the  ground. 

Gui-rdmin,  n.  (A.X.).  reward,  recoup 
pense  ;  v..  to  reward. 

Guide,  n..  the  flower  commonly  called 
a  turnsol. 

Gul (if,  adj.  (A.s.).  guilty. 

Gur/'es,  n.  pi.  (A.S.I,  '  young  persons, 
either  male  or  female. 

fftimlmrgeon,  n.  (A.X.),  a   diminutive  of 

hanberg,  a  coat  of  mail. 
llnddeti,  pa.  t.  pi.,  they  had. 
Ilcif,    pa.    t.    of    heve    (A.s.),    heaved 

raised. 


616 


GLOSSARY. 


H(ci/.  n.  (A.s.),  health,  welfare. 

llairv,  11.  (A.N.),  a  hair-cloth. 

iiakeney,  n.  (A.X.),  a  hackney;  an  am- 
bling horse,  or  pad. 

Haketoun,n.  (A.X.),  a  short  casso«K  with* 
out  sleeves. 

ffald,  part.  pa. ,  held. 

Half,  11.  (A.s.),  a  side,  a  part :  a  Goddis 
half,  on  God's  part ;  with  God's  favor  : 
OH  the  four  halves,  on  the  four  sides. 

Hall.-e,  n.  (A.S.),  a  corner. 

Halpe,  pa  t.  (A.s.),  helped. 

Ilnlg,  n.  (A.s.),  the  neck. 

Halite,  v.  (A.s.),  to  embrace  round  the 
neck,  to  salute. 

Hitlwes,  11.  pi.  (A.s.),  saints. 

Hum,  n.  (A.s.),  home. 

Him,  inf.  m.,  to  have. 

Hanselines,  a  part  of  the  dress,  apparent- 
ly a  sort  of  breeches. 

Happe,  or  hap,  n.  (A.s.),  chance  ;  v.,  to 
happen. 

Harde,  v.  (A.s.),  to  make  hard. 

Hardely,  adv.  (A.x.),  boldly  ;  adv.  (A.s.), 
certainly. 

Harding,  n.  (A.s.),  hardening. 

Harie,  v.  (A.N.),  to  hurry  ;  to  harie  and 
drawe. 

Harlot,  n.  (A.x.),  a  low  fellow,  belonging 
to  the  same  base  class  of  society  as  the 
goliardeis  and  ribalds. 

Harlotries,  11.  pi.,  ribaldries. 

Hartleys,  n.  (A.X.),  armor,  furniture. 

Harnei/se,  v.  (A.x.),  to  dress,  to  furnish. 

Harma,  interj.  (A.x.),  an  exclamation  of 
alarm. 

Harwed,  pa.  t.  v.  (A.S.),  harried,  plun- 
dered. 

Hasardour,  n.  (A.N.),  a  player  at  hazard, 
a  gamester. 

Hasardrie,  n.,  gaming  in  general. 

Hastlfly,  adv.  (A.X.),  hastily. 

Hat<;  v.  (A.S.),  to  be  named. 

Hunbtrk,  n.  (A.X.),  a  coat  of  mail. 

Haven,  inf.  m.  of  have. 

Haunt,  n.  (A.x.),  custom,  practice. 

Haitnte,  v.  (A.x.),  to  practise;  Tiaun- 
teden,  pa.  t.  pi.,  they  practised,  fre- 
quented. 

Hauteyn,adj.  (A.X.), haughty, high, loud;  j 
(t  hautein  faucon,  a  high-flying  hawk  ;  ! 
fan/con  haultam. 

1 'lit 'ire,  n.  (A.S.),  a  hawthorn-berry  ;  a  , 
farmyard,  a  churchyard. 

Hawe-bake,  according  to  Urry,  for  hau- 
berk. 

H<-,  pron.  (A.S.),  is  often  prefixed  in  all  j 
its  cases  to  proper  names  emphatical-  i 
ly,  according  to  the  Saxon  usage  :  He 
Moises:  He  Tityus. 

Heed,  n.  (A.s.),  a  head. 

Hff/fjeti,  n.  pi.  (A.*O,  hedges. 

Jle'le,  v.  (A.s.),  to  hide  ;  to  heal,  to  help. 

He/r,  n.,  health. 

Hem,  obi.  c.  pi.  of  he,  them. 


Hen,  adv.,  hence. 

Heende,  hende,  hendy,  adj.  (A.s.),  ci  ,11, 
courteous. 

Henen,  lienne,  hennes,  hens,  adv.  (A-*.), 
hence. 

Heng,  pa.  t. ,  hung. 

Rente,  v.  (A.s.),  to  take  hold  of,  to  catch, 
hent,  pa.  t.  and  part. 

Hepe,  n.  (A.s.),a  heap;  a  hip,  the  fruit 
of  the  dog-rose. 

Herowd,  heraud,  n.  (A.N.),  a  herald. 

Herberyaye,  n.  (A.s.),  lodging. 

Herberjours,  n.  pi.,  providers  of  Jodg 
ings,  harbingers. 

Herberwe,  n.  (A.s.),  an  inn,  a  lodging; 
in  astrology,  the  place  of  the  sun  :  v.. 
to  lodge. 

Herde,  hierde,  n.  (A.s.),  a  keeper;  a 
herd. 

Here,  pron.,  their. 

Heere,v.  (A.s.),  to  hear  ;  herd,  herde,  pa. 
t.  and  part. ;  herden,  pa.  t.  pi. 

Heer,  11.  (A.s.),  hair  ;  lieren,  adj.,  made  of 
hair. 

Heris,  1.  7508,  theirs. 

Herking,  part.  pr.  (A.s.),  hearkening. 

Hern,  n.  (A.g.),  a  corner. 

Jferonxewes,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  young  herons. 

Herte,  n.  (A.s.).  the  heart :  herte-spon,  1. 
2608,  this  part  of  the  body  is  not  named 
in  the  dictionaries.  From  a  passage 
in  Johnson's  Kad  Shepherd,  Tyrwhitt 
suspects  it  may  mean  the  concave  part 
of  the  breast,  where  the  lower  ribs 
unite  with  the  cartilage  ensiformis. 

Herteles,  adj.,  without  courage. 

Hertly,  adj.j  hearty. 

Herie,  \.  (A.s.),  to  praise. 

I/ery'mr/,  n.,  praise. 

Heste,  ii.  (A.s.),  command,  promise. 

liete,  v.  (A.s.),  to  promise,  to  be  called. 
See  hif/hte. 

Hethene'sse,  n.  (A.s.),  the  country  of  the 
heathens. 

Hethyny,  n.  (A.s.),  contempt. 

Here.  v.  (A.s.),  to  heave,  to  raise;  v. 
iieut. ,  to  labor. 

Heved,  n.  (A.s.),  the  head. 

Hcwf,  v.  (A.s.),  to  cut,  to  hew. 

Heire,  n.  (A.s.),  color,  appearance. 

Jff>/!/h,  acl.i.,  high. 

Hi'dous,  adj.  (A-x.),  divadful  :  hidotistr/, 
adv.,  terribly. 

//>/'',  11.  (A.s.),  haste,  diligence  ;  T.  to 
hasten. 

Hif/lit,  n.  (A.S.),  height. 

J/it/hte,  v.  (A.S.),  called. 

Hi'ld,  pret.,  held. 

Him,  obj.  of  h/>.  is  often  used  alone  in 
that  reciprocal  sense  which  is  general- 
ly expressed  by  the  addition  of  the 
adj.  Keif.  Than  hath  he  uon  hit  "rend, 
no  him,  no  shame,  t.  e  f»**r  1«>«««w!lf 
As  he  him  laid.  AndeU4Wa»  Anj 
bare  him. 


GLOSSARY. 


61? 


BunrJerest,  the  hindmost. 

ffyne.  n.  (A.S.),  a  servant  in  husbandry, 
a  hind. 

ffir,  their. 

Hire,  obj.  c.  of  she,  is  often,  like  him,  put 
for  herself,  and  without  the  usual 
preposition.  See  him. 

Hire,  pron.  poss.,  her. 

Hochepot,  11.  (A.x.X  a  mixture  of  va- 
rious things  shaken  together  in  the 
same  pot. 

Ho!:er,  n.  (A.S.),  frowardness  :  hokerly, 
adv.,  frowardly. 

Uoli/e,  n.  (A.s.),  a  fort  or  castle. 

Hold,  holden,  part,  pa.,  obliged. 

Mrf,  hole,  adj.  (A.S.),  whole,  entire, 
sound. 

flatly,  adv.,  entirely,  wholly. 

Holour,  n.  <  A.S-),  a  whoremonger. 

Jfolte,  n.  (A.s.),  a  grove,  or  forest  :  7<ofte, 
1.  4927.  for  liolile,  a  fort  or  castle. 

7/o/f,  holdeth. 

Hom/i/,  adj. (A.s,),  domestic, plain. simple. 

Homlynesse,  n.  (A.S.),  domestic  manage- 
ment ;  familiarity. 

Ifoiiflc,  n.  (A.S.),  a  hand. 

Honest,  adj.  (A.X.),  means  generally,  ac- 
cording to  the  French  usage,  credit- 
able, honorable  ;  becoming  a  person  of 
rank. 

Honeste,  honestete,  n.  (A.x.),  virtue,  de- 
cency, good  manners. 

lloor,  nore,  adj.  (A.S.),  lioary,  gray. 

Hoot,  adj.  (A.s.).  hot. 

Hope,  v.  (A.s.),  to  expect ;  to  hope. 

Hoppesteres,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  female  dan- 
cers. 

Hortl,  n.  (A.s.X  a  treasure  ;  a  private 
place  tit  for  the  keeping  of  treasure. 

Horsly,  adj.,  is  applied  to  a  horse,  as 
manly  is  to  a  man. 

Hospitalers,  n.  pi-,  religious  persons,  of 
both  sexes,  who  attended  the  sick  in 
hospitals. 

Host,  n.  (A.x.),  an  army. 

Hostel,  u.  (A.x.),  an  inn.  a  dwelling- 
place. 

llostyler.  11.  (A.x.),  an  inn-keeper. 

Hosfelrie,  n.  (A.X.),  an  inn.  or  lodging- 
house. 

Hole,  adv..  hotly. 

Hole,  htifrn,  part.  pa.  of  /;<>/<>.  called. 

Hounil-fisch,  n.  (A.s.X  the  dog-fish. 

Jfaii/tirJ,  pa.  t.  i A.x.X  hooped,  or  hol- 
lowod  ;  shoaled. 

Ifotntbontirye,  n.  (A.s.),  thrift,  economi- 
cal management. 

Hoiisbnnd-man,  n.  (A.S.),  the  master  of 
the  family. 

Ho:ise/,  n.  (A.s.X  the  Eucharist. 

Houself,v.,  to  administer  thf  sacrament: 
/o  /jc»i  Itotifte/nd,  to  receive  the  sacra- 
mer.t. 

ffoirre,  n.  (A.s.),  a  cap,  or  hood. 

Hwnblchedt,  n..  bumble  state. 


Humblf^je,  n.,  humility. 
Hitntc,  hont,  n.  (A.s.),  a  huntsman. 
Hurtle,  v.  (A.N.),  to  push. 
llijllcd,  part.   pa.   (A.s.),    hidden.     Se« 
Ae/e. 

/c/<.  pron.  (A.s.),  I  :  so  //ie  icA.  FO  may  I 

prosper. 
Idd,  a<lj.  (A.s.),  idle,  fruitless  ;  in  iilel, 

in  vain. 

Itlolrtstre,  n.  (A.N.),  an  idolater. 
//,-,  ?//.-,  pron.  (A.s.),  I. 
///.•c,  adj.  (A.s.),  same. 
I  mag 'mat  if,  adj.  (A. N.),  suspicious. 
Imp'eil,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  planted,  grafted. 
liiipes,  n.  pi.,  shoot  of  trees,  grafts. 
Importable,  adj.  (A.N.),  intolerable,  im- 
possible. 

Impossible,  n.  (A.N'.X  an  impossibility. 
In,  prep.  (A.s.),  upon. 
Imlit/ne,  adj.  (A.X.),  unworthy. 
Ingot,  n.,  a  mould  for  casting  ingots. 
Inhabit,  part.  pa.  (A.X.X  inhabited. 
/«///,  adv.  (A.s.),  inwardly,  deeply,  thor- 
oughly. 

Inne,  adv.  (A.s.),  in. 
In,  in   e,  n.  (A.s.),  a  house,  habitation, 

lodging. 

i  Inned,  >/nnefI.  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  lodged. 
:  Innocent,  adj.  (A.x.i.  ignorant. 
I  Illicit,    n.   (A.S.),    understanding;   con- 
science. 

fnicith,  prep.  (A.s.),  within. 
Irons,  adj.,  passio-iate. 
Ilaillc,  pr.  n.,  Italy, 

Jamln-ur,  n.   pi.   (A.x.),  armor  for  the 

legs. 
Jane,  n.,  a  coin  of  (Jamia)  Genoa;  it  is  , 

put  for  any  small  coin. 
Jn»r/le,  v.  (A.x.X  to  prate,  to  talk  much 

or  fast;  n.,  prate,  babble. 
Janfiler,jatifflmir,  n.,  a  prater  ;jangleres, 

a  female  prater. 
Jape,  n.  (A.x.>,  a  trick,  a  jest. 
Jnpe,  v..  to  jest,  to  cheat,  to  laugh  at ;  to 

put  to  shame. 

•Taper,  n.,  a  common  jester  or  buffoon. 
•Japcriv,  n..  buffoonery. 
Jest  en,  n.  pi.  as  rjditcs,  deeds. 
Jeirerif,  n.  (A.x.)  a  district  inhabited  by 

Jews. 

Jctrisr.  n.  (A.x.X  judgment,  punishment. 
,  Joconili1,  adj.  (A.x.X  joyous,  pleasant. 
1  Jor/clnnr,  n.  (A.X.>.  a  minstrel,  a  juggler. 
Jo'li/f,  adj.  (A.x.),  joyful,  jolly. 
1  Jnraanext  n.  pi.,  chamber-pots. 
;  Jossa,  an  exclamation. 
I  Jour  in  i'.   n.   (A.x.X  a  day's  journxy  ;   a 

day's  work. 

Jitbalter,  pr.  n.,  Gibraltar. 
•Jubbe,   n.,   a  vessel   for  holding  ale   or 

wine. 

Judtcnm,  the  Book  of  Judges. 
\Jnyl,  n..  the  month  of  Julj. 


GLOSSARY. 


Ji'*partie,  n.  (A.N.),  jeopardy. 
Jus/ice,  n.  (A.N.),  a  judge. 
Juwyse,  n.  (A.X.),  judgment. 

Kaynard :  caynard.  or  caignanl,  was  a 
French  term  of  reproach,  which  seems 
to  have  been  originally  derived  from 
canis,  dog. 

Kemelyn,  n.  (A.S.),  a  tub. 

Kempt,  kempt,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  combed. 

Keep,  n.  (A.X.).  care,  at'.eiuiou  ;  take  no 
keep,  do  not  mind  it. 

Kepe,  v.,  to  take  care. 

Kers,  n.  (A.s. 'i.  water-cresses  :  of  para- 
mours ne  setie  he  nat  a  kern,  would  now 
be  expressed  by,  he  cared  not  a  rush 
for  love. 

Kerver,  n.  (A.s.),  i  carver. 

Kesse,  v.,  to  kiss;  keste,  pa.  t.,  kissed. 

Kecerchff,  n.  (A.X.I,  a  cover  for  the  head, 
a  kerchief. 

Kecere,  v.  (A.X.),  to  cover,  or  recover. 

Kichil,  n.  (A.s.),  a  little  cake. 

Kill,  kidde,  (A.S.),  made  known,  discov- 
ered. 

Kike,  v.  (A.S.),  to  kick. 

Kin,  n.  (A.s.),  kindred. 

Ki/nd,  11.  (A.S.),  nature. 

Kyndely,  adv.,  naturally. 

jtinrede,  n.,  kindred. 

Klrtel,  n.  (A.s.),  a  tunic  or  waistcoat. 

Kijihe,  v-  (A.s.),  to  show,  to  make 
known. 

Knakkes,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  trifling  tricks. 

Knarre,  n.  (A.s.),  a  knot  in  a  tree. 

Knarry,  adj.  (A.s.),  full  of  knarres,  or 
knots. 

Knave,  n.  (A.s.),  a  servant,  properly  a 
hoy-servant:  a  knave-child,  a  male 
child. 

Knight,  n.  (A.s.),  a  servant,  generally  a 
servant  in  war;  a  soldier,  a  dubbed 
knight. 

Knif/hthorle,  n.,  valor. 

Knit,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  joined,  bound, 
agreed. 

Knobbes,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  excrescences  in 
the  shape  of  buds  or  buttons  ;  pim- 
ples. 

KnoH-f,  n.  (A.S.),  a  knee. 

KmiiclfcUe,  v.  (A.S.).  to  acknowledge. 

Kuriir/echiny,  n.,  knowledge. 

Kniithf,  (A.S.),  knew,  known. 

iVy/;e,  v.  (A.S.),  to  look  steadfastly. 

?,.(«*,  n.  (A.x.),  a  lace,  a  snare. 

'i*ahbe.  n.,  a  blab,  a  great  talker  ;  tabbing, 
blabbing. 

Lace,  11.  (A.N),  a  snare- 

Lncert,  n.  (A.N.),  a  fleshy  muscle. 

Lachesse,  n.  (A.X.),  slackness,  negli- 
gence. 

iftrf,  ladde,  led,  carried. 

Xq/V,  left. 

J.ayHere.1,  n.  pi.  (A.  >•.),  strapo  or  thongg. 


Z<iAv,  n.,  a  sort  of  cloth. 

Lakke,  (A.S.),  a  fault,  a  disgraceful  ac. 
tion  ;  want. 

Large,  adj.  (A.N.),  spacious,  free,  prodi- 
gal :  till  Unit  it  was  prime  large,  til] 
prime  was  for  spent. 

Largely,  adv.,  fully. 

Lassie,  less. 

Latrrde,  part.  pa.  (A.S.),  delayed,  lardy. 

Lathe,  n.  (A.s.),  a  barn. 

Latonn,  n.  (A.N.X  a  kind  of  mixed  metal 
of  the  color  of  brass. 

Lanrlen,  the  service  performed  in  the 
fourth,  or  la.-t,  watch  of  the  iiiyht. 

Launde,  n.  (A.N.).  a  plain  not  ploughed. 

Laureate,  n.  (A.X.).  spurge-laurel. 

Lavrer,  n.  (A.N.).  laurel. 

Laverock,  n.  (A.s.1,  a  lark. 

Launceyay,  n..  a  sort  of  lance. 

Larmirf.  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  lavers. 

Laxatif,  n.  (A.x.\  a  purging  medicine. 

Z,«(/,  n.  (A.s.),  law.  religious  profession. 

Lays,  n.  (A.s.),  lightning. 

Lazer,  n.  (A.N.),  a  leper. 

Leche,  \\.  (A.s.),  a  physician  ;  lechecraft, 
the  skill  of  a  physician,  the  practice  of 
medicine. 

Lecherous,  adj..  provoking  lechery. 

Lfcliour,  n.  (A.x.1,  a  lecher. 

Leden,  n.  (A.s.),  language. 

Lees,  n.  (A.X.),  a  leash  bv  which  dogs  are 
held. 

Leef,  adj.  (A.s.),  pleasing,  agreeable  ; 
beloved  :  be  him  loth,  or  Inf.  though 
it  be  unpleasing  to  him,  or  pleasing; 
for  left-  lie  Irit/ie,  for  friend  m>r  enemy  : 
it  sometimes  signities  pleased  :  /  nm 
nmif/ht  /eef  to  gabbe,  1  am  not  pl'-ased 
to  prate  ;  I  take  no  pleasure  h:  prat- 
ing. 

L'fiil,  adj.  (A.s.),  lawful. 

Legge,  v.  (A.s.),  to  lay. 

Le'y'sir,  n.  (A.N.),  leisure,  opportunity. 

Leite,\\.  (A.s.).  light  :  lightning. 

L'men,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  flames. 

Lemman,  n.  (A.S.),  a  lover,  or  gallant,  a 
mistress. 

J.endcs,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  the  loins. 

Lene,  adj.  (A.S.),  lean. 

Line.  v.  (A.S.),  to  lend,  to  grant. 

Lenger,  longer. 

Lenton,  n.,  the  season  of  Lent. 

Leonine,  adj-.  belonging  to  a  lion. 

Lepart,  n.,  a  leopard. 

Leep,  leaps  ;  lept. 

Lere,  lerne,  v.  (A.s.).  to  learn,  to  teach  ; 
lered,  learnt- 

Lere,  n.  (A.S.),  the  skin. 

Lese,  v.  (A.s.),  to  lose;  /esttli,  imp.,  lose 
ye. 

Li-giiifj,  n.  (A.S.).  a  lie.  a  falsity. 

Lfxt,  list,  /n,<>,  n.  (A  s.).  pleasure. 

Lvsti ,  lix'i-,  hi. •<!<•.  v.,to  please  ;  it  is  gen- 
erally used,  as  an  impersonal  in  the 
iJilrd person  onjy,  for  it  pleaseth,  or  it 


GLOSSARY. 


619 


pleased  :  him  lust  ryrle  soo,  it  pleased 
film  to  rii'e  s. > ;  ircl  to  drynke  us  It-gte. 
it  pleaseth  us  well  to  drink  ;  if  yow 
leste,  if  it  please  you;  me  list  notpleye, 
it  pleasetli  me  not  to  play. 

Leste,  least. 

Lette,  v.  (A.s.),  to  leave,  to  omit ;  to 
leave,  to  permit  ;  to  hinder. 

Let,  n.,  delay,  hindrance. 

Lettnire,  tetterure,  n.  (A.X.),  literature. 

Letuitri'-,  n.  (A.X.I,  an  electuary. 

Leve.  n.  (A.S.),  desire,  inclination. 

Lece,  adj.  (A.S.),  dear. 

Lere,  v.  (A.S.),  to  believe  :  levelk  me.,  be- 
lieve me. 

Levene,  n.  (A-S.),  lightning. 

Ltver,  com  p.  d.  ol'  I  erf,  more  agreeable  : 
/  hadde  lever,  I  liac'l  rather. 

Levesel,].  405i(,  the  meaning  of  this  word 
is  doubtful. 

Letred.  leirde.  adj.  (A.S.),  ignorant,  un- 
learned; lay;  lascivious. 

Leyte,  n.  (A.s,),  Maine. 

Hard,  n.  (A.N.\  a  name  fora  horse  ;  be- 
longing originally  to  a  horse  of  a  gray 
color,  as  in  yard,  from  bay. 

Liche-icnke  (A.S.),  the  custom  of  watch- 
ing with  dead  bodies. 

Lit</i.i,  n.  pi.  (A.JO,  subjects. 

Lijiwle,  n.(A.S.),  living,  existence. 

Lijfly.  adv.  (A.S.),  like  the  life. 

Ligeaunce.  n.  (A.X.).  allegiance. 

Ligf/e,  v.  (A.S.),  to  lie  down :  Hggyny, 
lying- 

Lii/hte,  v.  (A.S.),  to  enlighten,  to  make 
iight,  or  pleasant  ;  to  descend,  to 
alight. 

Liken,  v.  (A.s.1,  tc  compare. 

Like,  v.  (A.S-),  to  please  ;  it  liketh  hem,  it 
pleasetli  them. 

Licorotm,  iikerous,  adj.  (A.S.),  Glutton- 
ous, lascivious. 

Licoroitsnes,  Hkerou.iiim,  n.,  greediness  ; 
lechery. 

Likyny,\\.  (A.S.),  pleasure. 

Lima>/lr,  n.  (A.X.),  tilings  of  any  metal. 

Limed,  |iart.  pa.  (A.S.),  caught,  as  with 
bird-lime. 

Limed,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  polished,  as  with 
a  tile. 

Li  me- rod, -A  twig  with  bird-lime. 

Lymytacinnn,  n..  a  certain  precinct 
allowed  to  a  limitour- 

Lymi/toui;  n..  a  fi  iar  licensed  to  b'ig 
within  a  certain  district. 

Lynafff,  n.  (A.X.I,  family. 

JLijndc,  n.  (A.S.),  the  lime-tree. 

Lisse,  n.  (A.s.),  remission,  abatement. 

Lisseil,  part.  pa.  (A. s.),  eased,  relieved. 

Liste,  v.    See  leste. 

Litarr/e,  n.  (A.N.).  white-lead. 

Lyte,' adj.  (A.s.).  little. 

Lith,  •  .  (A.sJ,  a  limb. 

L,ither,  adj.  (A.s.),  -vicked. 

Litherly,  aUr  (A.S.),  ill,  badly. 


Lt/ve  n.  (A  .».),  Hfe :  nn  h/ve,  in  life 
alive  :  Lyves  creatures,  living  crea- 
tures. 

Lodgmenage,  Loode-sterre.  See  the  stat- 
ute 3  Geo.  I.  c.  13,  where  load-mana-.r^ 
is  used  repeatedly  in  the  sense  of  pilot- 
age;  the  north  star  is  similarly  called 
ti'e  lodesterre,  and  hence  also  our 
name  of  loadstone  for  the  magnet  : 
lodesmen  occurs  in  other  writings  ot 
Chaucer  for  pilots. 

Loft  (A.S.),  o?i  loft,  aloft,  on  high. 

Loi/e,  n.  (A.X.),  a  lodge,  habitation  ; 
fogged,  lodged  ;  logging,  n.,  a  lodging 

Loken,  loke,  part.  pa.  of  loke,  v.  (A.s.), 
locked,  shut  close. 

Loller,  n.,  a  Lollard. 

Londe,-\}.(\.K.),  land. 

Lone,  n.  (A.S.),  a  loan,  anything  lent. 

Longe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  belong,  to  desire. 

Long,  along. 

Loos,  IDS,  n.  (A.X.),  praise. 

Lordi/iif/es.  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  sirs,  masters  ; 
a  diminutive  of  lords. 

Lordsckipe,  n.  (A.s.),  supreme  power. 

Lore,  n.  (A.s.),  knowledge,  doctrine, 
advice. 

Lorel,  n.  (A.X.),  a  good-for-nothing  fel- 
low. 

Lome,  part.  pa.  of  lese  (A.s.),  lost,  un- 
done. 

Loseiigeour,  n.  (A.X.),  a  flatterer  ;  losen- 
f/erie,  n.,  flattery. 

Loth,  adj.  (A.S.),  odious,  disafrree'.ile. 
more  hateful  ;  lofhly,  adj.,  loathsome. 

Love~dayes,  days  appointed  for  the  am> 
cable  settlement  of  ditl'erences. 

Lore-drin/.;  n.,  a  drink  to  excite  love. 

Love-loitiiynq,  n.,  desire  of  love. 
I  LOU<I!I,  laiiglied. 
I  Lowke,  t\.  lurking  fellow. 
I  Loure,  v.  (A.S.),  to  look  discontented. 

I^oute.  v.  (A.s.),  to  bow,  to  lurk. 

Lowlyhede,   n.  (A.S.\  humility. 

Luce,  n.  (A.X.),  the  tish  called  a  pike. 

Lulled,  invited  to  s-leep. 

Lumbfirdes,  n.  pi.,  bankers,  remitters  of 
money. 

Litnarie,  n..  a  herb,  moomvort. 

Lure,  n.  (A.N.),  a  device  used  by  falcon 
ers  for  calling  their  hawks. 

Lure,  v.,  t<>  bring  to  the  lure. 

Litftt,  n.,  see  lent. 

Lust,  he  desires. 

Luxti/hede,  n.  (A.s.),  pleasure,  mirUL 

Luxurie,  n.  (A.X.),  lechery. 

)faat  (A.JO,  dejected  ;  struck  dead. 
Mace,  n.  (A. N.),  a  club. 
Mftdde,  v.  (A.S.I,  to  become  mad. 
Ufahoun,  pr.  n.,  Mahomet 
Mayle.  n.  CA.X.),  a  coat  of  mall. 
Mitmtenaunce,  n.  (.v.x.),  behavior. 
ifaisterie,  maistrie,  11.  (A.X.),  skill,  skit 
fill  management,  power,  superority. 


GLOSS  ART. 


Maistresse,  n.  (A.x.),  mistress,  governess. 

Maixtrise,  n.  (A.X.),  masterly  workman- 
ship. 

Make,  n.  (A.s.),  a  fellow,  a  mate,  a  hus- 
band, a  wife. 

Make,  v.  (A.S-),  to  compose  or  make 
verses  :  to  make  a  man's  berde,  to  cheat 
him. 

Maked,  part,  pa.,  made. 

A/ale,  n.  (A.x.),  a  budget,  or  portman- 
teau ;  evil, -ill. 

Maleiice,  n.  (A.x.),  enchantment,  witch- 
craft. 

Malisoun,  n.  (A.X.),  malediction,  curse. 

Malvesie,  n.,  Malmsey  wine,    [threaten. 

Manace,     n.    (A.X.),   a    threat  ;    v.,   to 

Manciple,  ii.,an  officer  who  had  the  care 
of  purchasing  victuals  for  an  iim  of 
court. 

Mandement,  n.  (A.x.),  Mandate. 

Manure,  n.  (A.M.),  carriage,  behavior ; 
kind,  or  sort. 

Alanye,  n.  (A.X.),  madness. 

Mannish,  adj.  (A.S.),  human,  proper  to 
the  human  species  ;  masculine,  proper 
to  man,  as  distinguished  from  woman. 

Manor,  n.  (A.x.),  dwelling. 

Mantelet,  n.  (A.x.),  ashoit  mantle. 

Marclan.  adj.,  martial,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Mars. 

Murreys,  n.  (A.X.),  a  marsh. 

Mary,  11.  (A.s.).  marrow;  mary-bones, 
marrow-bones. 

Market -befer.  probably  one  that  endeav- 
ors to  lower  prices. 

Marl-is,  n.  (A.N.).  a  marquis. 

Martyr?,  v.  (A.X.),  to  torment. 

Mase,  n.,  a  wild  fancy  ;  v.,  to  doubt,  to 
be  confounded  ;  masednesse.  astonish- 
ment, confusion. 

Maselin,  n..  a  drinking-cup. 

Mate  (A.X.).  dejected,  struck  dead. 

Maiindemeitt,  n.  (A.X.),  mandate 

Maut/re  (A.X.),  in  spite  of. 

Mavis,  n.  (A.S.),  a  thrush. 

Maumi't,  n.,  an  i<lol. 

Manmetrie,  n.,  the  religion  of  Mahomet, 
idolatry. 

Ma  in-,  11.  (A.S.),  the  stomach. 

Mat/,  n.  (A.S.),  a  virgin  ;  a  young  woman. 

Maydenhode,  \\.  (A.S.).  virginity. 

Mede,  n.  (A.S.).  a  meadow. 

Me.f-de,  n.  (A-S.),  reward. 

Mftlc.  meth,  n.,  mead,  a  liquor  made  of 
honey. 

Medle. v.  (A.N.I,  to  mix  ;  merited,  mixed. 

M/!i/ne,  meif/ne,  nieisne  (A.N.),  household 
attendants,  an  army 

Mriit/  (A.S.),  mixed,  mingled. 

Mellc,  n..  a  mill. 

llemnrie.  n.  (A.X.),  remembrance  ;  v.,  to 
remember. 

Mendinauntz.  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  friars  of  the 
begging  orders. 

Itene,  v.  (A.8-),  to  mean,  to  intend, 


Mene,  11.  (A.X.),  a  mean,  or  instrument. 
Mene,  adj.,  middle. 
Menivere.  n.  (A.X.),  a  sort  of  fur. 
Merciable,  adj.  (A.N.),  capable  of  mercy, 

merciful. 

Merltorie,  adj.  (A.X.),  meritorious. 
Merk,  n.  (A.S.),  a  mark,  an  image. 
Mervailte.  n.  (A.x.),  wonder,  marvel. 
Mery,  adj.  (A.s.),  merry,  pleasant. 
Mesaventure,  n.  (A.X.),  misfortune. 
Mesel,  11.  (A.x.),  a  leper. 
Meselrie,  n.  (A.N.),  leprosy. 
Message,  n.  (A.N.),  a  messenger. 
Messe',  n.  (A.X.),  the  service  of  the  mass 
Mester,  n.    (A.x.),    trade,    occupation  . 

tr/tal  mestir  men  ye  been,  what  kind  o/ 

men  ye  are;  need. 
Mesnrable,  adj.  (A.X.),  moderate. 
Meschaunce.  n.  (A.X.),  misfortune. 
Meschiefe,  n.  (A.X.),  misfortune. 
Alesure,  n.  (A.N.),  moderation. 
Mete,  adj.  (A.s.),  titling,  convenient. 
Mete,  n.  (A.s.),  meat  ;  aurj/ng  the  metes 

space,  during  the  time  of  eating. 
;V/e/f ,  v.  (A.S.),  to  meet ;  to  dream. 
Melyng,  dreaming. 
Mette,  dreamed. 
Mewe,  n.  (A.x.),  a  cage  for  hawks,  while 

they  mue,  or  change  their  feather?  ;  a 

c:)ge,  in  general,  or  any  sort  of  confine. 

merit. 
Miffht,  pa.  t.  of  May  (A.S.),  was  able  : 

mif/hten,  pi. 
Ministres,  n.  pi.  (A  .x.),  officers  of  justice; 

ministers,  minstrels. 
Mipiour,  n.  (A.X.),  a  miner. 
Mi/nstralcni-,  »•  (A.X.),   music,   musical 

instruments. 
Mis,  adv..  ill,  amiss.    It  is  often  to  b« 

supplied    to    a    second    verb,    having 

been  expressed  in  composition  with  a 

former.     If  that  I    mis-speke  or  say. 

That  hire  mis-doth  or  saith.     There  is 

nothing  mis-saide  nor  do. 
Mis,  n.,  a  wrong. 
Mi/savise,  v..  to  advise  wrongly. 
Mixboden,  injured. 
Misbnrn,  misbehaved. 
Mi/xdtparte.  v.,  to  .listrilmte  wrongly. 
Misericord,  n.  (A.x.),  mercy,  pity. 
Misese.  n.,  uneasiness. 
MisQjied.  misguided. 
Mi/Kffoon,  mis-go,  gone  wrong. 
Misii/y,  adv.  (A.s.),  darkly. 
Mitaine,  n.  (A.X.).  a  glove. 
Mite,  n.  (A.S.).  a  small  worm. 
Mixen,  n.  (A.S-),  a  dunghill. 
Mn.  more. 
Moche.    mochel,    adj.   (A.S.).    great    in 

quantity,  in  number,  in  degree  :  adv., 

much,  greatly. 
Moder,  moil  re.  mrnidrf,  n.  (A.S.),  mother; 

the  matrix,  or  principal  plate  of  tfcc 

astrolabe. 
Moeblis,  n.  pi.  (A.X,),  movable  good*. 


GLOSSARY. 


62* 


Moist,  moisty,  adj.  (A.K.),  w>ft. 

Motte,  melted. 

Alone,  n.  (A.S.),  the  moon  ;  lamentation. 

Monesie,  v.  (A.N.),  to  admonish- 

Mood,  n.  (A.S.),  anger. 

More  (A.S.),  greater  in  quantity,  in  num- 
ber, or  in  degree.  It  is  usually  joined 
to  adjectives  and  adverbs,  to  express 
the  comparative  degree. 

Manual,  ii.,  a  cancer,  or  gangrene. 

Uortifie,  v.  (A.N.),  to  kill  (speaking  of 
quicksilver). 

tloi-trewe^,  n.,  a  kind  of  broth,  or  soup, 
in  the  preparation  of  which  the  Mesh 
was  stamped,  or  beat,  in  a  mortar. 

tforire.  n.  (A.S.),  the  morning  :  a-inorwe, 
in  the  morning  of  the  following  day. 

Uoru-tning,  n.  (A.S.),  the  morning  :  mor- 
weninges,  pi. 

Jfo.sc/.  n.  (A.N.),  the  muzzle,  mouth  of  a 
beast. 

tfoste  (A.S.),  greatest. 

Most?,  v.  (A-S.),  must :  mos'^n,  pi. 

Mote,  v.  (A. s.),  must,  may  ;  motcn,  pi. 

Mote,  n.  (A.S.),  an  atom. 

\fou(iht  (A.S.),  might.  » 

.\foule,  v.  (A.S.),  to  grow  mouldy. 

Uountaunce,  n.  (A.X.),  amount,' in  value, 
or  quantity. 

Mowc,  v.  (A.S.),  to  be  able. 

Mue,  v.  (A.X.),  to  change. 

Mullnk,  11.  (A.S.),  dung,  rubbish. 

tfultiplicacioun,  n.  (.A.N.),  the  art  of 
making  gold  and  silver. 

Jf,  for  ne,  not,  is  often  joined  to  the  be- 
ginning of  the  word  to  which  it  relates, 
as  nndue,  had  not ;  nam,  am  not ;  nas, 
was  not ;  nere,  were  not ;  nil,  will  not ; 
nis,  is  not;  iiiste,  wiste  not;  nolde, 
would  not,  &c. 

Na.  no. 

Nakers.  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  a  kind  of  brazen 
drum  used  in  the  cavalry. 

Nale,  n.  (A.S.).  This  word  probably,  in 
those  few  passages  in  which  it  is  found, 
should  be  considered,  not  an  ale-house, 
as  sometimes  interpreted,  but  merely 
as  a  corruption,  which  has  arisen  from 
the  mispronunciation  and  consequent 
miswriting  of  atte  nale  1'or  atten  ale. 
A  similar  corruption  seems  to  have 
taken  place  in  the  name  of  that  cele- 
brated personage  in  our  law,  Mr.  John 
a-noke,  whose  original  appellation  was 
John  atten  oke,  as  that  of  his  constant 
antagonist  was  John  atte  stile. 

Nam,  pa.  t.  of  nime  (A.S.),  took. 

Nappe,  v.  (A-S.),  to  sleep. 

Narwe,  adj.  (A.S.),  close,  narrow. 

Nat,  not. 

Nath,  for  ne  hath,  hath  not. 

Natheles,  adv.  (A..S.),  not  the  less,  never- 
theless. 

Caught,  n  my  lit,  n.  (A.S.),  nothing 


Nauyht,  adv.,  not,  not  at  all.  It  ma) 
more  properly  perhaps  be  considered 
as  a  noun  used  adverbially. 

Nan,  adv.  (A.S.)  ;  it  seems  to  be  used 
sometimes  as  a  noun  :  it  is  no  nay,  it 
cannot  be  denied. 

Ne  (A.S.),  not,  nor- 

Needful,  adj.,  distressed,  indigent. 

Needely,  adv.,  necessarily. 

Seertes,  neefle,&dv.,  necessarily. 

Nvddtr,  n.  (A.S.),  an  adder. 

Neyhebore,  n.  (A.S.),  a  neighbor. 

Netghe,  adj.  (A.S.),  nigh ;  T.,  to  ap- 
proach, to  come  near. 

Nempnv,  v.  (A.S.),  to  name 

Ner,  near  :  ncre,  nigher. 

Nvsche,  adj.  (A-S.),  soft,  tender. 

Neet,  n.  (A.S.),  neat-cattle. 

Nethir,  lower. 

Neven,  v.  (A.S.),  to  name, 

Newe,  adv.,  newly. 

Neiue,  v.,  to  renew  :  newett,  renewed. 

Newefangel,  adj.,  desirous  of  new  things- 
newefangelness,  n.,  inconstancy. 

Next?.,  super],  d.,  Highest. 

Nice,  adj.  (A.N.),  foolish. 

Ni/cete,  n.,  folly. 

Nyfles,  n.  pi.,  trifles. 

Nyyard,  n.  (A.N.),  a  stingy  i'ellovr ; 
niqardie,  n.,  stinginess. 

Niiihtertalt  (A.S.),  nijiht-time. 

Niyht-xpel,  n.  (A.S.),  a  night-charm. 

Noblesse,  n.  (A. x.),  dignity,  splendor. 

Nobh-y,  n.,  noblesse. 

Note,  n.  (A. >'.), hurt,  trouble  ;  v.,to  hurt, 
to  trouble. 

Nbmvn,  name,  part.  pa.  of  nime  (A.S.), 
taken. 

Xomoo,  adv.  (A.S.).  no  more. 

Nones:  j or  t/ie  nones,  i.  v.,  for  the  occa- 
sion, for  once. 

Kowie,  n.  (A.X.).  a  nun. 

Noon,  n.  (A.N.),  the  ninth  hour  of  the 
natural  day  ;  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  the  hour  of  dinner. 

Nonce,  n.  (A.N.),  a  nurse. 

Norteli'lfe,  n.  (A.N.),  nurture,  education. 

Nose-lldrles,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  nostrils. 

Not,  for  ne.  irot,  know  not. 

Not<il>i/i/t,  n.  (A.x.),  a  thing  worthy  of 
observation. 

Note,  n.  (A.S.),  need,  business. 

Notemuye,  n.,  a  nutmeg. 

Noi-hed,  a  head  like  a  nut. 

Not  her,  conj.  (A.S.),  nor,  neither. 

Nothiny,  adv.  (A.S.),  not,  not  at  all. 

Nought,  n.  and  adv.  (A.S.).     See  natigjtt. 

Nouthe,  adv.  (A.S.),  uow. 

Notre  he,  n.,  a  clasp  or  buckle. 

Now,  adv. :  now  and  now,  once  an« 
again. 

Nowel,  n.  (A.N.),  Christmas. 

O.  adj.  for  on,  one. 
Obcysaunce.  n.  (A.N.),  obedieiio* 


622 


GLOSSARY. 


Obeysant,  part,  pr.,  obedient. 

O'iserraunce,  n.  (A.N.),  icspect. 

Observe,  v.  (A.X.),  to  respect,  to  pay  re- 
gard to. 

Offended,  part.  pa.  (A.X.).  hurt. 

Ojfcnsioun,  11.,  offence,  damage. 

Offntng,  n.,  offering  at  mass.  • 

Qften-iith,  oftentimes. 

Oynement,  11.  (A.X.),  ointment. 

Olifaunt,  n.  (A.X.),  an  elephant. 

Oliver  x,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  olive-trees. 

OH,  oon,  adj.  (  A.S.),  one  :  n/Yer  o?i,  alike  : 
?/)<'?/  »<?<-7v  at,  on,  they  were  agreed  : 
ever  in  oon,  continually  :  /  mine  on, 
I  single,  1  by  myself. 

Oned,  part.  pa.  (A.s.),  made  one.  united. 

Ones,  pi.  of  OH  ;  we  three  ben  alia  ones, 
we  three  are  all  one. 

Ones,  adv.  (A.S.),  once :  at  oones,  at  once, 
at  the  same  time. 

Only,  adv.  (A.S.),  solely. 

Open-ers,  n.  (A.S.),  the  fruit  of  the  med- 
lar-tree. 

Open-heded,  adj.,  bare-headed. 

Opye,  n.  (A.X.),  opium. 

Oppresse,  v.  (A.N.).  to  ravish  ;  oppressed, 
part.  pa. ;  oppression,  n.,  rape. 

Or,  adv.  (A.S.),  ere,  before. 

Orator;/,  11.  (A.X.),  a  chapel,  a  closet. 

Ordered,  part,  pa.,  ordained,  in  holy 
orders. 

Ordres  foure,  the  four  orders  of  mendi- 
cant friars. 

Ordinauncc,  n.  (A.x.),  orderly  disposi- 
tion. 

Ordinaf,  part,  pa.,  orderly,  regular. 

Ore,  n.  (A.s.),  grace,  favor. 

Orfreys,  11.  (A.X.),  gold  embroidery. 

Orisonf,  n.  (A.x.),  the  horizon. 

Orisoun,  n.  (A.X.),  a  prayer. 

Orologe,  n.  (A.X.),  a  clock  or  dial. 

Other,  adj.  (A.S.),  the  other  of  two; 
otheres,  gen.  ca. 

Other,  conj.  (A.s.),  or,  either. 

Ouyhne,  adj.  (A.S.),  own. 

Over,  prep.  (A.s.),  above. 

Oi-er,  adj.  (A.S.),  upper  ;  overest,  superl., 
uppermost. 

Orer-gret,  adj.  (A.S.),  too  great. 

Over-ladde,  part,  pa.,  overborne. 

Over-lippe,  n.,  the  upper  lip. 

Over-live,  v.,  to  outlive. 

Over-name,  overtaken. 

Over-thwart,  adv.  (A.S.),  across,  over, 
against. 

Ought  (A.S.),  anything. 

Ought,  pa.  t.  of  owe,  owed;  ought  is  also 
used  as  an  impers.  in  the  pr.  and  pa.  t. : 
we!  ought  us  werke,  well  behoveth  it  us 
to  work. 

Ounding,  n.  (A.X.),  waving,  imitating 
waves. 

Outlier,  either. 

Oiithee.i,  n.,  outcry. 

Outrage,  u.  (A.X.),  violence. 


Outraye,  v.  (A.N.),  to  fly  out,  to  be  oct 

rageous. 

Outrely,  adv.  (A.X.),  utterly,  entirely. 
Oui-rydere,  11.  (A.s.),  a  rider  out. 
Out-taken,  part,  pa.,  taken  out,  excepted, 
Owe,  v.  (A.S.),  I  owe,  I  ought;  owen,  pi. 
Owher,  adv.  (A.s.),  anywhere. 

Paas,  n.  (A.X.),  a  foot-pace. 
Pace,  v.  (A.x.),  to  pass  ;  to  surpass. 
Payd,  part,  pa.,  pleased,  contented. 
Paindemaine,  a   sort   of    white    bread. 

Skinner  derives  it  frcm  panix  matu- 

tinus,  pain  de  matin,  morning  breau. 

Tyrwhitt  thinks  it  derived  from   the 

province  of  Maine,  where  it  was  per- 
haps made  in  the  greatest  perfection. 
Paleys,  n.  (A.K.),  a  palace. 
Paling,  n.  (A.N.),  imitating  pales. 
Palled,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  made  pale. 
Palrneres,  n.  pi.,  pilgrims. 
Pan,  n.  (A.S.),  the  skull,  the  head. 
Panade,  n.  (A.X.),  a  knife,  or  dagger. 
J'apinjay,  n.  (A.N.),  a  parrot. 
Par,  prep.  (A.X.),  par  amour,  with  or 

by  love^par  compagnie,  for  company  ; 

par  chaunce,  by  chance  ;  par  cwt;  by 

heart,  in  memory. 
Paraye,  n.  (A.x.),  kindred. 
Paramour,   paramours,    n.    (A.x),  love, 

gallantry  ;  a  lover  of  either  sex. 
Paraventure,    adv.     (A.N.),     haply,    bj 

chance. 
Parcel-mele,  adv.  (A.s.),  by  parcels,  01 

parts. 
Parde  (A.X.),  a  common  oath,  literally 

by  God. 
Pardoner,  n.  (A.X.),  a  seller  of  pardons 

or  indulgences. 
Parements.  n.    pi.   (A.  >'.),    ornamenta* 

furniture,    or    clothes :     chambre    de 

parement,  is  translated  by  Cotgrave. 

the  presence-chamber  ;  and  lit  de  pare 

ment,  a  bed  of  state. 
Parentele,  prtreiiteal.  n.  (A.N.),  kindred. 
Parfay  (A..v.),  by  my  faith. 
Parfit,perfight,  adj.  (A.x.),  perfect. 
Parfourme,\.  (A.N.),  to  perform. 
Parischens,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  par-ishioners. 
Paritorif,  n.  (A.X.).  the  herb  parictaria 

or  pellitory  of  the  wall. 
Parlement,  n.  (A.X.),    an  assembly  foi 

consultation. 

Parten,  inf.  m.  (A.X.),  to  take  part. 
Partie,  n.  (A.x.),  a  part,  a  party  in  a  dis- 
pute. 
Parvis,    n.    (A.X.),    a    portico  before    n 

church. 
Passe,  v.  (A.x.),  to  surpass,  to  excel  ;  to 

judge,  to  pass  sentence. 
Pax,  to  kiss  the  pax  ;  a  religious  cere- 

mony. 
Paijen,     adj.    (A.x.),   pagan :    payees. 

n.    pi.,    heathens';  paynymts-  u.  pi- 

pagans. 


GLOSSARY. 


623 


Pecunial,  adj.  (A.N.),  pecuniary,  \rnid  In 
money. 

TV?*,  ii.  (A.N.),  peace. 

/VHoit?i<,  n.  (A.N.),  a  person  doing  pen- 
ance. 

Penible,  adj.  (A.N.),  industrious,  pains- 
taking. 

Peuetencer,  11.  (A.s.X  a  priest  who  en- 
joins penance  in  extraordinary  cases. 

Penner,  n.,  a  pen-case. 

Pennun,  pynoiui,  n.  (A. x.),  a  streamer,  or 
ensign. 

Perel,  ii.  (A.x.1,  apparel. 

Peere,  11.  (A.X.),  a  peer,  an  equal. 

Peregrine,  ailj.  (A.N.),  wandering. 

Perjonette,  n.,  a  young  pear. 

Perrye,  n.  (A.N.),  jewels,  precious  stones. 

/Vrs,  adj.  (A.X.),  sky-colored,  of  a  bluish 
gray. 

Persfy,  11.,  parsley. 

Persnne,-!).  I.A.X.),  a  man;  a  parson,  or 
Doctor  of  a  church. 

T'ert,  adj.  (A.X.),  open. 

Pertourbe,  y.  (A.x.),  to  trouble  ;  pertnurb- 
ing,  n.,  disturbance. 

Per;/,  n.  (A.X.),  a  pear-tree. 

Peyne,i\.  (AX.),  penalty  ;  grief,  torment, 
labor  ;  v.,  to  torture,  to  put  to  pain  ; 
to  give  oneself  trouble. 

Peytrel,  n.  (A.X.),  the  breast-plate  of  a 
horse.  [phisika. 

Pliixik,  n.  (A.X.),  medicine;  doctour  of 

Plcche,  n.  (A.s.1,  pitch. 

Pie,  n.  (A.x'.),  a  magpie,  a  prating  gos- 
sip, or  tell-tale. 

Pierrie,  n.(A.x.),  jewels,  precious  stones. 

Pigyesneyghe,  a  term  of  endearment. 

PiflM,  pa.  t.  of  pike,  v.  (A. a.),  pitched. 

Pike,  v.  (A..S.),  to  pitch;  to  pick,  as  a 
hawk  does  his  feathers  ;  to  steal. 

Pike.re.1,  n.  (A.s.1).  a  young  pike. 

/'Her,  n.  (A.X.),  a  pillar. 

Pile, pi/lc,  v.  (A.X.),  to  rob,  to  plunder,      j 

Piled,  adj.,  bald. 

Pilours,  n.    pi.   (A.x.),  plunderers. 

Pifirebrer,  n.  (A.s.),  the  covering  of  a 
pillow. 

/'tint-it/,  11.,  spiced  wine,  wine  mixed 
with  honey. 

Pi/ache,  v.  (A.x.1,  to  pinch  :  //«<•>•  cnutlie 
no  man  pynche.  at  hi*  irriti/ni/.  not  one 
could  lay  hold  of  any  Haw  iii  his  writ- 
ings. 

/";/)«>,  n.  (A.x.).  pain,  grief  ;  v.,  to  tor- 
ment :  ]>ii>ieil,  part,  pa.,  tortured. 

fittel,  n.,  an  epistle,  a  short  lesson. 

Pitcmnce,  n.  (A.X.I,  a  mess  of  victuals  : 
it  properly  means  an  extraordinary 
allowance  of  victuals,  given  to  mon- 
astics, in  addition  to  tiiuir  usual  com- 
mons. 

Pith,  n.  (A.s.),  marrow,  strength. 

Pilous,  adj.  (A.X. ),  merciful,  compassion- 
ate, exciting  compassion ;  pitously, 
pitifully. 


P'ei/iie,  v.  (A.x.),  to  complain. 

Plat,platte,  adj.  (A.N.),  Hat,  plain  -.  it  if 
often  used  as  an  adverb. 

/'/at/if,  adv.,  tiatly.  directly. 

Pleyn,  adj.  (A.N.),  full,  perfect. 

PleuaaiiHce,  n.  (A.X.),  pleasure. 

Plesyngea;  n.  pi.,  pltattures. 

Plvte,  v.  (A.x.),  to  plead. 

I'letyng,  n.,  pleading,  arguing. 

Pli/e,  v.  (A.X.),  to  bend,  oV  mould. 

Plight,  n.,  condition. 

Plight,  pa.  t.  and  part,  of  pluck  (A.s.), 
pulled,  plucked. 

P/if/hte,  v.  (A.S.).  to  engage,  to  promise. 

Plijt,  plight,  condition. 

Poeple,  n.  (A.x.),  people. 

Poi/nf,  n.  (A.X.),the  principal  business,  a 
stop,  or  full  point  :  in  t/i>od  prtynt,  in 
good  case,  or  condition;  at  poynt  decyx, 
with  the  greatest  exactness. 

Pointel,  n.  (A.X.),  a  style,  or  pencil,  for 
writing. 

Pake,  n.  (A.x.),  a  pocket,  a  bag. 

Polyve,  n.,  a  pulley. 

J'o/lar,  n.  (A.X.).  a  halberd. 

Pomel,  n.  (A.X.),  any  ball,  or  round 
thing,  the  top  of  the  head. 

Pomelee,  adj.  (A.x  ),  spotted  with  round 
spots  like  apples,  dappled  :  pomelee 
(/rig.  of  a  dapi ile-gray  color. 

Poj>il/ot,  n..  this  word  may  enher  be 
considered  as  a  diminutive  from  pou- 
pee,  a  puppet,  or  as  a  corruption  of 
papillot,  a  young  butterfly. 

Popet,  n.  (A.x.),  a  puppet.  t 

Popper,  n.,  a  bodkin  ;  a  dagger 

Pore,  v.,  to  look  earnestly." 

Pore,  adj.,  poor. 

J'orphitric,  pr.  n.,  of  a  species  of  marble, 
porphyry. 

Port,  n.  (A.x.),  carriage,  behavior- 

Portos,  n.  (A.x.),  a  breviary,  portifo- 
rium. 

Pose,  n.,  a  rheum,  or  delluxion,  obstruct 
ing  the  voice. 

Pone,  v.  (A.x.),  to  suppose,  to  put  a 
case. 

Poxsessioners,  11.  pi.,  MI  invidious  name 
for  such  religious  connnuni'ies  as  wern 
endowed  with  lands.  Jto.  The  mcndi- 
<-ant  orders  professed  ta  live  entirely 
upon  alms. 

Poste,  n.  (A.x.>,  power. 

Pott  nt,  n.  (A.X.I,  a  staff,  a  walking- 
stick. 

Potentate,  n.  (A.X.),  a  principal  magis- 
trate. 

Poiiclie,  n.  (A.N.I,  pocket,  pouch. 

Prirerte,  n.(A.X.),  J)overty. 

I'tiiinsnneil.  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  punched 
with  a  boilkin. 

I'niijit'.  v.,  to  make  a  noise  with  a  horn. 

Porer,  adj.  (A.X.).  poor. 

Pomv,  to  pore. 

Practike,  11.  (A.x.),  practice 


624 


GLOSSARY. 


Prea-nbulatiim,  n.,  prepmble. 
Precious,  adj.  (A.X.),  ever-nice. 
Predicacioun,  n.(A.x.),  preaching,  a  ser- 
mon. 

Prees,  n.  (A.x.),  a  press,  or  crowd. 
Prentys,  11.  (A.X.),  an  apprentice  :  pren- 

tyslwod,  n.,  apprenticeship. 
Preparat,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  prepared. 
Prese,  v.  (A.x.),  to  press,  or  crowd. 
Present,  v.  (A.X.),  to  offer,  to  make  a 

present  of. 

Prest,  adj.  (A.X.),  ready. 
Preve,  v.  (A.x.),  to  try,  to  demonstrate  by 

trial ;  to  turn  out  upon  trial. 
Prick,  n.  (A.s.),  a  point,  a  pointed  wea- 
pon :  v.,  to  wound,  to  spur  a  horse,  to 
ride  hard  :  prikyny,  n.,  hard  riding. 
Pricasour,  n.,  a  hard  rider. 
Prideles,  adj.,  without  pride. 
Prye,  v.,  to  look  curiously. 
Prime,  adj.  (A.X.),  first. 
Prime,  n.,  the  first  quarter  of  the  arti- 
ficial day  :  half  way  prime,  prime  half 
spent :   prime    large,    prime    far    ad- 
vanced.    In   1.   10387,   it  seems  to    be 
used  metaphorically  for  the  season  cf 
action  or  business. 
Primerole,  n.  (A.x.),  a  primrose. 
Pryg,  n.  (A.x.),  price,  value,  praise. 
Prive,  adj.  (A.x.),  private  :  price,  man,  a 
man  entrusted  with  a    private  busi- 
ness. 

Pryvy/y,  adv.,  privately. 
Pryvyte,  n.,  private  business. 
Proces,  11.  (A.x.),  progress. 
Profexsioun,  n.  (A.N.),  the  monastic  pro- 
fession. 

Proheme.  a  preface. 
Prolle,  v.,   to  go  about  in  search  of  a 

thing. 
Procerbe,  n.  (A.x.),  a  prudential  maxim,: 

v.,  to  speak  proverbially. 
Prow,  n.  (A.X.),  profit,  advantage. 
Pullnile,  n.  (A.N.),  poultry. 
Pulled  hen.     It  is  said  that  a  hen  whose 
feathers  are  pulled,  or  plucked  off,  will 
not  lay  any  eggs. 
Pure,  adj.  (A.x.),  mere,  very. 
Purer/,  part,  pa.,  purified. 
Purjiled,  part,  pa.,  guarded,  or  fringed. 
Purpon,  n.  (A.X.).  purpose,  design,  prop- 
osition in  discourse. 
Purtrnye,  v.  (A.x.),  to  draw  a  picture. 
Purtreyour,  n.,  a  drawer  of  pictures. 
Purtreture,  n.,a  picture,  or  drawing. 
Purveyance,  n.  (A.x.),  foresight,    provi- 
dence, provision. 

Purrei/e,  v.,  to  foresee,  to  provide. 
Putrie,  li.  (A.x.),  whoredom. 
Putonrx,  n.  pi.,  whoremongers. 

Qua'!,  qnade,  adj.  (A.s.),  bad. 

Quakl'e,  n.,  seems  to  be  put  for  an  inar- 
ticulate noise,  occasioned  by  any  ob- 
struction in  the  throat. 


Qualme,  n.  (A.s.),  sickness  ;   the  nolle 

made  by  a  raven. 

Quarels,n.  pi.  (A.x.),  square  arrows. 
Queynt,  n.  (A.x.),  the  sexual  parts  of  a 

voinan. 
Qiieynt,   adj.    (A.x.),   strange ;   cunning, 

artful ;  trim,  neat. 
Queynt,  pa.  t.  and  part,  of  quench  (A.s.), 

quenched. 
Queyntise,  n.  (A.x.).  trimness.  neatness. 

excessive  trinmess  ;  cunning. 
Quelle,  v.  (A.s.),  to  kill,  to  destroy. 
Querne,  n.    (A.s.),  a  hand-mill. 
Queste-monf/ern,  n.  pi.,  packeis    of   in- 
quests, or  juries. 
Quyk,  adj.  (A.S.),  alive. 
Quyken.  v.,to  make  alive  :  quyked,  part. 

pa  ,  made  alive. 
Quiked,  pa.  t.  of  the  same  v.  used  in  a 

neutral  sense  ;  became  alive. 
I    Quynyble,  n..  a  musical  instrument,  the 
exact  description  of  which  seems,  not 
to  be  ascertained. 

Quyte,  adj.  (A.x.),  free,  quiet ;  v.,  to  re- 
quite, to  pay  for,  to  acquit. 
Qvy'ehj,  adv.,  freely,  at  liberty. 
Quail,  pa.  t.  of  <;  net  lie,  said. 
Qtioo/.',  pa.  t.  of  quake  (A.s.),  tremoled, 

shook. 
Quot/i,  pres.  t.  of  quethe,  says. 

J!a,  n.  (A.s.),  a  roe-deer. 

Had,  radde,  pa.  t.  of  rule  (A.s.),  aavised, 

explained. 

Ilajlef,  n.  pi.  (A.x.),  plays  with  djoe. 
liafte,  i  a.  t.  of  rere  (A.s.),  took  av,aj 
J'aye,  v.  (A.x.).  to  toy  wantonly. 
J!a(/eri< ,  n.,  wai.ionness. 
I!akel,  adj  ,  Lasty,  rash  ;    rake'-irrSfe,  n., 

rashness. 

Rammish,  adj.  (A.S.),  rank,  like  a  ram. 
Jlampe,  v.  (A.X.),  to  climb. 
Rape,  adv.  (A.s.),  quickly,  s-f-.efdily. 
Jtape,\.  (A.S  ),  to  seize  and  plunder,  to 

take  capti\e. 
Jiaf>/d,  part,  pa.,  chidder.. 
llat'he,  adv.  (A.S.),  soon,  early,  speedily; 

rather,  sooner  ;  former  ,  rathest,  soon- 
est. 

Rat  owns,  n.  pi.  (A.x.;.  rats. 
Raur/h>,  pa.  t.  (A  s  ).  reached. 
Rau'ght  (A.s.),  from  recclte,  cared,  rekked. 
Raunsoun,  n.  (A.N.),  ransom. 
Real,   adj.   (A.X.),    royal;    rentier,   more 

royal  ;  realin-h,  adv.,  royally. 
Hea'te,  n.,  royally. 

Itebekke,  n.  (A.x.),  a  musical  instrument. 
Itechase.d,  pa.  t.  i,  \.x.),  a   lerm  in 

ing. 

Recche,  rekke,  v.  (A.S.).  to  care, 
Recchdes,  adj..  careless. 
Recchelesnexs,  n..  carelessness. 
Reclaime,  v.  (A.N.I,  a  term   in  falconry 

for  bringing  the  hawk  to  the  fist  by  a 

certain  call. 


GLOSSARY. 


629 


Kecomforle,  v.  (A.N.),  to  comfort. 

Recorae,  v.  (A.x.),  to  remember  ;  to  enter 
upon  record  in  judicial  proceedings. 

Recreant,  adj. (A.x.),  one  who  yields  him- 
self to  his  adversary  in  single  combat. 

Redde,  red,  pa.  t.  of  rede. 

Rede,  v.  (A.S.),  to  advise,  to  read,  to  ex- 
plain ;  n.,  advice,  counsel  ;  a  reed. 

Redoute,  \.  (A.N.),  to  fear  ;  redoutyny,  n., 
reverence. 

RedresHc,  v.  (A.x.),  to  make  amends  for. 

Reeu,  adj.  (A.s.),  red. 

Refte,  rifle,  n.  (A.s.).a  chink,  or  crevice. 

Refute,  h.  (A.x.),  refuge. 

Regals,  n.  pi.  (A.x.),  royalties. 

Reyard,  n.(A.x.),  at  reyanl  of,  with  re- 
spect to,  in  comparison  of. 

Regne,  n.  (A.X.),  a  kingdom. 

Renete,  v.  (A.x.),  to  revive,  to  cheer. 

Reken,  v.  (A.s.),  to  reckon,  to  come  to  a 
reckoning. 

Relees,  n.  (A.x-),  release. 

Relike,  11.  (A.x.),  a  relic  ;  rclikes,  pi. 

Remenaunt,  n.  (A.X.),  a  remnant,  a  re- 
maining part. 

Kernes,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  realms. 

Remuable,  adj.  (A.X.),  movable,  change- 
able, inconstant. 

Remue,  rcmewe,  remeve,  v.  (A.x.),  to  re- 
move. 

fienable,  adj.  (A.x.),  reasonable;  renably, 
adv.,  reasonably. 

Reneye,  v.  (A.X.),  to  renounce,  toab.iure. 

Kent/ex,  n.  pi.,  ranks,  the  steps  of  a 
ladder. 

Renne,  v.  (A.s.),  to  run. 

llenomk,  n.  (A.X.),  renown. 

Renorelle,  v.  (A.X.),  to  renew. 

Repaire,  n.  (A.x.),  resort. 

Repaire,  v.  (A.x.),  to  return. 

Reprefe,  reprere,  n.  (A.x.),  reproof. 

Rescous,  n.  (A.x.),  rescue. 

Respiten,  inf.  m.  (A.X.),  to  grant  a  re- 
spite, to  excuse. 

Retenue,  n.  (A.x.),  retinue  :  at  Jiis  re- 
tenue,  retained  by  hi::;. 

Reeve,  n.  (A.S.),  a  steward,  or  bailiff. 

Reve,  v.  (A.S.),  to  take  away. 

Revel,  n.  (A.x.),  entertainment,  properly 
during  the  night ;  sport,  festivity. 

Revelonr,  n.,  a  reveller. 

Rerelrle.  n.,  pleasure. 

Rew,  n.,  a  row,  or  line  ;  on  a  rew,  in  a 
line. 

Reirard,  n.  (A.x.),  regard,  respect:  take 
reward  of  thine  oven  value,  have  re- 
gard to  ;  in  reward  of,  in  comparison 
with. 

Reice,  v.  (A.s.),  to  have  compassion  ;  to 
suffer  ;  to  have  cause  to  repent. 

Keyccd,  made  military  expeditions  ;  jour- 
neyed. 

Hibande,  ribald,  n.  (A.X  ),  a  low,  profli- 
gate man;  a  base  class  in  medieval 
society. 

40 


Rlbaudye,  n.,  ribaidry,  Indecent  words  or 
actions. 

Ribibe,  n..  a  musical  instrument;  the 
same  as  rebekke. 

Ribible,  n.,  a  small  ribibe. 

Richesse,  H.(A.X.),  wealth  ;  richesses,  pi., 
riches. 

Rimydi'ii,  part.  pa.  (A.X.),  composed  in 
rhyme  or  verse. 

llt/s,  n.  (A.S.),  small  twigs  of  trees  or 
bushes. 

Ilyst,  riseth. 

Ri//,  rideth. 

Rice,  v.  (A.S.),  to  thrust  through  :  to 
split. 

Roche,  n.  (A.x.),  a  rock. 

Rode,  n.  (A.S.),  complexion. 

Rody,  adj.  (A.S.),  ruddy. 

Rombel,  n.,  a  rumbling  noise,  a  rumoi. 

Rome,  v.  (A.S.),  to  walk  about. 

Roode.  n.  (A.S.),  the  cross;  roode-bem,  tha 
beam  of  the  cross. 

Roser,  11.  (A.x.),  a  rose-bush. 

Rote,  n.  (A.S.),  a  root  ;  a  musical  instru- 
ment; n.  (A.x.),  practice:  by  rote,  by 
heirt. 

Roitf/ht,  for  raught. 

Rouke,  v.  (A.S.),  to  lie  close. 

Route,  v.  (A.S.),  to  roll,  to  stroll,  to  stray. 

Roume,  adj.,  wide,  spacious :  rouiner.- 
wider. 

Itouncy,  n.  (A.x.),  a  common  hackney 
horse. 

Roundel,  n.  (A.X.),  a  sort  of  song. 

Route,  n.  (A.X.),  a  company. 

Route,  v.  (A.X.),  to  snore,  to  roar  ;  to  as- 
semble in  a  company. 

Routhe,  n.  (A.S.),  compassion,  the  object 
of  compassion  ;  rout/teles,  adj.,  with- 
out compassion. 

Row,  adj.  (A.S.),  rough. 

Rownc,  v.  (A.S.),  to  whisper. 

Rubens,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  rubies. 

Rudde,  n.  (A.S.),  complexion.    See  rode. 

Rii(/f/if,  adj.  rough. 

Jtussel,  pr.  n.  The  fox  is  called  Dan 
Kussel  from  his  red  color. 

Sad.  adj.  (A.s.),  grave,  steady,  seriously, 

repentant. 
Sad/;/,    adv.,    steadily,   carefully,  seri- 

ously. 

Sadness,  n.,  gravity,  steadiness. 
Salue,  v.  (A.N.),  to'salute. 
Sanftuin,    adj.    (A.X.),    of    a    blood-red 

color. 

Save,  n.,  the  herb  sage. 
Savf,  adj.  (A.X.),  safe  ;    saved,  or    ex- 

cepted. 

Savour,  v.  (A.X.),  to  taste,  to  relish. 
Kavouryng,  n.,  the  sense  of  tasting. 
Savourous,  adj.,  sweet,  pleasant. 
Sauns,  prep.  (A.X.),  without. 
Sairceflem,  pimpled  ;  or,  perhaps,  scafe 

by. 


626 


GLOSSARY. 


Soutrle,  n.  (A.N.),  a  musical  string-in- 
strument. 

Sawe,  n.  (A.S.).  speech,  discourse ;  a 
proverb,  or  wise  saying. 

Say,  saw. 

Scathe,  skathe,  n.  (A.S.),  harm,  damage. 

Scatheful,  scatheliclie,  adj.,  pernicious. 

Schadde,  pa.  t.  of  schede,  v.  (A.S-),  fell  in 
drops. 

Schaft,  n.  (A.S.),  an  arrow. 

Schaltow,  for  schalt  thou. 

Schapt'h/,  adj.  (A.S.),  fit.  likely. 

Hchau-e.  n.  (A.S.),  a  sliade  of  trees,  a 
grove. 

Sc/iendi-,  y.  (A.S.),  to  ruin,  destroy. 

Schendship,  n.,  ruin,  punishment. 

Schene,  adj.  (A.S.),  bright,  shining. 

Schent,  part.  pa.  of  schende,  ruined,  de- 
stroyed. 

Schipne,  schepnr,  n.  (A.S.),  a  stable. 

Schere,  v.  (A.S.),  to  cut,  to  shave. 

Schete,  v.  (A.S.),  to  shoot- 

Schette,  v.  (A.S.),  to  close,  or  shut. 

Schilde,  v.  (A-^-),  to  shield  :  God  schilde! 
God  shield,  or  forbid  ! 

Schivere,  n.  (A.S.),  a  small  slice. 

Schood,  n.  (A-S.),  the  hair  of  a  man's 
head. 

Schonde,  n.  (A.S.),  harm. 

Schope,  pa.  t.,  shaped. 

Schore,  part.  pa.  of  schere,  cut. 

Schorte.  v.  (A.s.)  to  make  short. 

Schot,  part.  pa.  of  shette,  shut. 

Schowve,  v.  (A.S.),  to  push. 

Schrewe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  curse:  n.,a«  ill- 
tempered,  curut  man,  or  woman. 

Schretede,  adj.,  wicked  :  shrewednes,  ill- 
nature. 

Schrift,  n.  (A.s.),  confession:  schrifte- 
fcufers,  father  confessors. 

Schriye,  v.  (A.s.1,  to  make  confession. 

flchriven,  pan.  pa.,  confessed. 

Schulde,  gfliulden,  should. 

Schullen.  they  shall. 

Sclaundre,  n.  (A.X.),  slander. 

Scola;/,  v.  (A.X.),  to  attend  school,  to 
study. 

Scrlpte,  n.  (A.X.),  a  writing. 

Scriptures,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  writings,  books. 

Secre,  adj.  (A.X.),  secret. 

Seculer,  adj.  (A.X.).  of  the  laity,  in  op- 
position to  clerical. 

Sec,  11.  (A.X.),  a  scat ;  sees,  pi.  ;  see,  n. 
(A.s.),  the  sea. 

See/en,  sat. 

Ser/e,  n.  (A.X.),  a  siege. 

<S'e»/e.  sey,  pa.  t.  of  see,  saw  ;  part,  pa., 
seen. 

Seignorie,  n.  (A.>~.),  power. 

Sei'j/n,  part.  pa.  of  see,  seen. 

Seynde,  singed. 

Seyiif,  n.  (A.X.),  a  girdle. 

Seke,  v.  (A.S.),  to  seek. 

Seke,  adj.  (A.S.),  sick. 

fielden,  adv.  tA.s.),  seldom. 


Se/e,  n.  (A.N.),  a  seal. 

.S'e//",  selve,  adj.  (A.S.),  same. 

Se«e,  n.  (A.X.),  a  cell. 

Se//e,  n.  (A.S.),  a  door-sill  or  threshold. 

Sell/,  adj.  (A.S.),  silly,  simple,  harmless. 

Semblable,  adj.  (A.N.),  like,  resembling. 

Semblaunt,  n.  (A.X.),  seeming,  appear- 
ance. 

^emeliche,  stmyly,  adj.  (A.S.),  seemly 
comely  ;  semeheste,  superl. 

Semelyhede,  n..  seemliness,  comelinesu 

Semysoim,  11.,  a  low  or  broken  tone. 

tfemiicope,  11..  a  half  or  short  cloak. 

Send,  sendeth. 

Sendal,  n.,  a  thin  silk. 

Senye,  v.  (A.S.),  to  singe. 

Sentence,  n.  (A.X.),  sense,  meaning,  judg- 
ment. 

Sergeaunt,  n.  (A.X.),  a  squire  attendant 
upon  a  prince  or  nobleman. 

Serie ,  n.  (A.N.),  series. 

Servage,  n.  (A.M.),  servitude,  slavery. 

Setewale,  n.  (A.X.),  the  herb  valerian. 

Sethe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  boil. 

Sethe,  pa.  t.,  boiled. 

Seurement,  n.  (A.N.),  security  in  a  legal 
sense. 

Seuerte,  n.  (A.X.),  certainty,  surety,  in  a 
legal  sense. 

Sewes,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  dishes  of  victuals. 

Se?/7J,  v.  (A.s.),  to  say. 

Shef,  n.  (A.S.),  a  bundle,  a  sheaf  of  ar- 
rows. 

Shriyhf,  shrieketh  ;  shrieked. 

Sibbe,  adj.  (A.S.),  related,  allied. 

Seigh,  (-aw. 

Sike,  adj.  (A.S.),  sick. 

Kike.  v.  (A.S.),  to  sigh  ;  n.,  a  sigh. 

Syker,  adj.  (A.S.).  sure. 

Sykerde,  assured. 

Sykrrnesse.Ti.,  security. 

Sykerly,  adv.,  surely. 

Syn,  adv.  (A.s.),  since. 

Synamome,  n.  (A/K.),  cinnamon. 

Sys,  n.  (A.N.),  the  cast  of  six,  the  high- 
est cast  upon  a  die. 

Syt,  sitteth. 

Sithe,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  times. 

Si/then,  syth,  adv.  (A.S.),  since. 

Skalled,  adj.,  scabby,  scurfy. 

Ski!,  n.  (A.s.),  reason. 

Skinke,  v.  (A.S.),  to  pour  out,  to  serre 
with  drink. 

Slake,  adj.  (A.s.),  slow. 

Slake,  v.  (A.s.).  to  appease,  to  mule 3 
slack  ;  to  fail,  to  desist. 

Sle,  sltn,  v.  (A.S.),  to  kill,  to  slay. 

Slr.er,  n.  (A.s.),  a  killer. 

Sleighly,  adv.  (A.s.),  cunningly. 

Sleight,  11.,  a  contrivance. 

.S/en,  they  slay. 

Slider,  adj.  (A.S.),  slippery. 

Sliding, _  part,  pr.,  uncertain. 

Stye,  sligh,  adj.  (A.S.),  cunuiug. 

Slik,  such. 


GLOSSARY. 


627 


Slit,  he  slides. 

Slogardie,  n.,  sloth. 

Sloppe,  n.  (A.S-),  a  sort  of  breeches. 

Slow,  slew. 

Sluffi/}/,  adj.  (A.S.),  sluggish. 

Smerte,  v.  (A.s.),  to  smart,  t«  suffer  pain. 

Smerte,  adv.,  smartly. 

Sini/t,  smites. 

Sm'iMh,  smite  ye. 

Smythe,  v.  ^.\.s  j,  to  forge,  as  a  smith. 

Smokies,  adj.  (A.s.),  without  a  smock. 

Kinuterllch,  adj.,  dirty. 

Sne.we,  v.   (A.s.),  to  snow. 

Sm/bbe,  v.  (A.S.)  to  snubl),  to  reprove. 

Sob-it,  n.  (A.s.),  toll. 

Solas,  11.  (A.X.),  mirth,  sport. 

Holempne,  adj.  (A.X.),  solemn. 

Somdi-l,  adv.  (A..S.),  somewhat,  in  some 
measure. 

Sompiii.',  v.  (A.X.),  to  summon. 

Sompwmr,  n.,  an  officer  employed  to 
summon  delinquents  to  appear  in  ec- 
clesiastical courts. 

Sonde,  n.  (A.s.),  a  message  ;  a  thing 
sent. 

Sonnish,  adj.,  like  the  sun. 

Sophime,  n.,  a  sophism,  a  subtle  fal- 
lacy. 

Sort,  n.  (A.X.),  chance,  destiny. 

Sonet,  n.  (A.s.),  sorrow. 

iSory,  adj.  (A.s.),  sorrowful  :  sonj  grace, 
misfortune. 

Sole,  n.  (A.S.),  soot. 

Sote,  soote,  sirote,  adj.  (A.s.),  sweet. 

Soted,  part.  pa.  (A.X.).  fooled,  besotted. 

Sotil,  adj.  (A.X.),  subtle,  artfully  con- 
trived. 

Sotli,  adj.  (A.s.),  true,  eeitain;  sothly, 
adv.,  truly  ;  sotl/e,  n.,  truth. 

Sothfastnes,  n.  (A.S.),  truth. 

Soudan,  n.,  a  sultan  ;  soudanncsse,  the 
wife  of  a  sultan. 

Souded,  part,  pa.,  consolidated,  fastened 
together. 

Soveraine,  adj.  (A. X-),  excellent,  in  high 
degree. 

Soverainly,  adv.,  above  all. 

ftouke,  v.  (A.X.),  to  suck. 

•S'oii«,  11.  (A.X.),  sound,  noise. 

Sountle,  v.  (A.s.).  to"iake  sound,  to  heal; 
v.  neut.,  to  grow  sound. 

Soune,  v.  (A.x*.).  to  sound. 

Soupe.  v.  (A.X.),  to  sup,  to  take  the  even- 
ing meal  ;  smi/x  r,  n.,  supper. 

Sonp/f,  adj.,  supple,  pliant. 

fiourtlc,  v.  (A.x.1,  to  rise. 

Sours,  n.,  a  rise,  a  raj)id  ascent ;  the 
source  of  a  stream  of  water. 

Sowtcr,  n.,  a  cobbler. 

Span-,  v.  (A.s.).  to  refrain. 

Sparrf,  n.  (-\..<O.  a  wooden  bar. 

Sparred,  barred,  bolted. 

Sj><>c/iicl<>,  n.  (A.X.),  a  spying-glas*. 

Spel,  n.  (A.S.),  sport,  play  ;  t<ile,  or  his- 
tory. 


Spence,  n.  (A.N.),  a  etore-room  for  wiue 

or  victuals. 

Spere,  n.  (A.s.),  a  spur  ;  a  spear. 
Sperme,  n.  (A.X.),  seed. 
Spices,  n.  pi.,  sorts,  or  kinds. 
Spil/e,  v.  (A.s.),  to  waste,  to  throw  away, 

to  destroy  ;  v.  neut.,  to  i>erish. 
Spired,  inquired. 

Spitous,  adj.  (A.X.),  angiy,  spiteful. 
Spitoustt/,  adv.,  angrily. 
Spousaile,  n.  (A.X.),  marriage. 
Sprcynd,  sprinkled. 
tsqiMineu,  n.  pi.,  scales. 
Staff-sling,  a  sling  fastened  to  a  siaff. 
Stalke,  \.  (A.s.),  to  step  slowlv. 
StalkcK,  n.  pi.  (A.s.),  the  upright  piecei 

of  a  ladder. 

Stamen  (A.X.),  a  sort  of  woollen  cloth. 
Slant,  stands. 
Starf,  pa.  t.  of  stern-,  died. 
Start:,  adj.  (A.S.),  stiff,  stout. 
Stele,  n.  (A.s.).  a  handle  :  rakes  stele,  the 

handle  of  a  rake. 

Stente,  v.  (A.s  ),  to  cease,  to  desist. 
Steep,  slept,  adj.,  seems  to  be  used  in  the 

sense  of  deep,  so  that  eyi-n  n/cej>  may 

signify  eyes  sunk  deep  in  the  head. 
Stere,  n.  (A.S.),  a  young  bullock;  a  rudder 

of  a  ship. 

Slerelex,  adj..  without  a  rudder. 
Sfere::mnn,  n.,  a  pilot. 
j  Stern-,  n.  (A.s.),  a  star. 
;  Sferf,\\.  (A.s.).  a  leap. 
i  Sterte.  pa.  t.  of  nfi  rt, ,  leaped,  escaped, 

ran  away. 

!  sierre,  v.  (A.s.).  to  die,  to  perish. 
Stere»,  n.  i  A.S.>.  voice,  sound  ;  a  time  of 

performing    any     action,     previously 

lixed    by    mess.-ige,    order,    summons, 

&c. ;  at  vnKi-f  xtei'eii,  without  any  pre- 
vious appointment  ;  tliey  selten  steivitf 

they  appointed  a  time. 
Steice,  n.  (A.x.),  a  pond  for  fish. 
Sfeires,  pi.,  stews,  bawdy-liouses. 
Stiltatoric,  n.  (A.N.).  a  still. 
Stifh,  n.,  (A.s.),  an  anvil. 
,  Stocked,  conlined. 
;  Stole,  11.,  part  of  the  ecclesiastical  habit, 

worn  about  the  neck. 
Stole,  n.  (A.S.),  a  stool. 
Stand  en,  they  stood. 
!  Stout,  stands. 
Sfnpeii.  stepped,  advanced. 
Storinl,  adj.  (A.X.),  historical,  true. 
i  Storren,  they  jierished. 
Slot,  n.  (A.s.),  a  stallion. 
j  Strife,  n.  (A.S.),  €i  species  of  weasel,  a 

pole-cat. 
Stuiind,   n.   (A..S.),   a    moment,  a   short 

space  of  time ;    atoundi-s,   pi.,  times 

seasons. 

Stoiire,  n.  (A.S.),  fight,  battle. 
Stnini/e,  adj.  (A.X.),  foreign,  uncommon: 

A'.-  Hirifte  it  stnni/ie,  he  made  it  a  mat* 

ter  of  difficulty,  or  nicety. 


«28 


GLOSSARY. 


Straughte,  stretched. 

Sire,  n.  (A.S.),  straw. 

Streight,  stretched. 

Streyne,  v.  (A.N.),  to  constrain,  to  press 
closely. 

Strcyte,  adj.  (A.X.),  strait. 

Stn-mes,  11.  (A.S.;.  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

Sirens,  n.  (A.S.),  stock,  race,  progeny. 

Strike,  i\.  (A.s.),  a  line,  a  streak,  a  strike 
of  flax. 

$/rof,  strove,  contended. 

Stnmde,  n.  (A.S.),  a  shore. 

Htrnwle,  v.,  to  strut. 

Sublimatorie,  n.,  :i  vessel  used  by  chem- 
ists in  sublimation,  i.  t-,  separating 
certain  parts  of  a  body,  and  driving 
them  to  the  top  of  the  vessel,  in  the 
form  of  a  very  fine  powder. 

Substannce,  n.  (A.x.),  the  material  part 
of  a  thing. 

Sue,  v.  (A.X.),  to  follow.  [faction. 

Suflisaunce,  n.   (A.X.),  sufficiency,  sati-s- 

Suffisaunt,  adj.,  sufficient. 

Snrcnfe,  n.  (A.N.),  an  upper  coat,  or 
kirtle. 

Surplis,  n.  (A.x.),  a  surplice. 

Stmjuedrie,  n.(A.x.),  presumption,  over- 
weening conceit. 

Sursanure,  n.  (A.X.),  a  wound  healed 
outwardly  only. 

Surveaunce,  n.  (A.X.),  superintendence. 

Suspect,  11.,  suspicion. 

Swa.  adj.  (A.s.),  so. 

Sival,  swelled. 

Swappe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  throw  down,  to 
strike  off ;  v.  neut.,  to  fall  down. 

Swatte,  sweated. 

Swegh,  n.  (A.S.),  a  violent  motion. 

Sicelte,  v.  (A.s.),  to  die,  to  faint ;  sicelt, 
pa.  t. 

Sweven,  n.  (A.s.),  a  dream. 

Swich,  adj.,  such. 

Ku-iinke,  n.  (A.s.),  labor  ;  v.,  to  labor. 

Swire,  n.  (A.s.),  the  neck. 

Swithe,  adv.  (A.S.),  quickly,  immediately. 

Swyve,  v.  (A.s.),  to  have  sexual  inter- 
course. 

Swolwe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  swallow. 

Swonkeii,  part.  pa.  of  stcinke,  labored. 

Swoote,  adj.  (A.S.).  sweet. 

Sicouyh,  n.  (A.S.),  sound,  noise  ;  a  swoon. 

Tables,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  a  game  so  called. 
Tattle,    n.  (A.X.),  a    tally,  an    account 

scored  0:3  a  piece  of  wood. 
Take,  \.  (A.S.),  to  give,  to  deliver  a  thing 

to  another  person. 
Takel,  n.  (A.S.),  an  arrow. 
Tale,  n.  (A.S.),  reckoning,  account  :  li/cl  ! 

(ale  hath  lie  /nld  of  ant  i  aremf,\\e  made 

little  account  of  any  dream. 
Talent,  n.  (A.N.),  desire,  affection. 
Tahjiit/,  n.,  story-telling. 
Tapinage,   n.   (A.N.),  lurking,  skulking  : 

about. 


Tapicer,  n.  (A.N.),  a  maker  of  tapestry. 

Tapstere,  n.  (A.s.),  a  woman  who  has  tb« 
care  of  the  tap  in  a  public-house. 

Targe,  n.  (A-x.),  a  small  shield. 

Tas.  taas,  n.  (A.K.).  a  heap. 

!T«s<e,  v.  (A.X.),  to  feel,  to  examine. 

Taverner,  n.  (A.N.),  the  keeper  of  a  tav- 
ern. 

Teche,  v.  (A.s.),  to  teach. 

Teine,  n.,  seems  to  signify  a  narrow, 
thin  plate  of  metal. 

Temps,  n.  (A.S.),  time. 

Ttne,  n.  (A.S.),  grief;  v.,  to  grieve,  to 
afflict. 

Tercelct,  tercel,  n.  (A.X.),  the  male  hawk, 
the  male  eagle. 

Terrestre,  n.  (A.X.),  earthly. 

Testers,  n.  pi.  (A.N.),  head-pieces. 

Testes,  n.  pi.,  vesselsfor  assaying  metals, 

7V«??//,  adj.  (A.N.),  headstrong. 

Textual,    adj.    (A.N.),    ready    at    citing 

Thacke,  v.,  to  thump,  to  thwack,  to 
slap. 

Thanne,  adv.  (A.S.).  then. 

y/iar,  v.  impers.  (A.s.),  behoveth  ;  needs. 

The,  v.  (A.S.),  to  thrive. 

Thednme,  n.  (A.S.).  thrift,  success. 

Tliennes,  thenne,  adv.  (A.s.),  thence. 

Then-en,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  manners,  qualities. 

Thllke,  adj.  (A.S.).  this  same,  that  same. 

Thynke,  v.,  to  consider,  to  seem. 

Thynne,  adj.  (A.S.),  slender,  small. 

Tlit/rle,  v.  (A.S.),  to  pierce  through. 

Tliise,  pi.,  these. 

T/to,  those. 

Tito,  adv.,  then. 

Thole,  v.  (A.S.),  to  suffer. 

Thorpe,  thrope,  n.  (A.s.),  a  village. 

Thrcpe,  v.  (A.S.),  to  call. 

Threxte,  v.  (A.s.),  to  thrust. 

Threisshfold,  n.  (A.S.),  a  threshold. 

Thrfttene  (A.s.),  thirteen. 

Thridde.  adj.  U.S.),  third. 

Thrie,  tlirit,  thries,  adv.  (A.S.),  thrice. 

Thronr/f.  thrust. 

Throslel,  n.  (A.S.).  a  thrush. 

Thrmr,  n.  (A.S.),  time:  6it<  a  throw,  bui 
a  little  while.  [of. 

T/nirr/h,  prep.  (A.S.).  through,  by  mean* 

Thurrok,  n.  (A.S.),  the  hold  of  a  ship. 

Thiritel,  n.  (A.s.),  a  whittle,  a  littl 
knife- 

Tidde,  part.  pa.  of  ftWe  (A.S.),  happened 

Tt/l-fl,  adj.  (A.s.),  uncertain. 

Til.  prep.  (A.s.),  to. 

Timbesferre,  n.,  perhaps  a  woman  who 
played  tricks  with  timbres,  or  basins 
of  some  sort  or  other,  by  throwing 
them  up  into  the  air,  and  rate-hint: 
them  upon  a  single  linger  ;  a  kind  of 
bal  a  n  ce-ni  i  st  res?. 

Tim/jres,  n.  pi.  (A. N.\ basins. 

Tip/tion,  n.  pi.  (A.s.1,  tiptoes,  the  «x 
tremities  of  the  toen. 


GLOSSARY. 


629 


Titleles,  adj.  (A.s.),  without  title. 

To,  adv.  (A.s.),  too. 

— ,  in    composition   with   verbs,  is  aug- 
mentative :    the   helmes   they  lo-ht-we.n 
and  to-shrede,  hew  and  cut  to  pieces: 
the    bones    they    to-ltreyle,    break    in  , 
pieces ;  to-dusked,   much   bruised  ;   to-  \ 
rent,  rent  ill  pieces  ;   to-swyuke,  labor 
greatly. 

Tofore,  toforcn,  prep.  (A.s.),  before. 

Told,  accounted. 

Tomotsterre,  n.  (A.s.),  a  dancing-woman. 

Tone,  n.  pi.  (A.s-),  toes. 

Tonne-yreet,  adj.,  of  the  circumference  of 
a  tun. 

Toos,  toes. 

Toretles,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  rings. 

Tatty,  adj.  (A.s.),  dizzy. 

Tough,  adj.  (A.S.),  ditlicult :  to  make  it 
tough,  to  take  a  great  deal  of  pains. 

Toug/tt,  adj.  (A.S.),  tight. 

Tour,  n.  (A.X.),  a  tower. 

Toute,  n.,  the  backside. 

Towel,  tetcef,  n.,  a  pipe,  the  fundament. 

Trace,  11.  (A.S.),  a  track  or  path. 

Trait,  n.  pi.  (A.X.),  the  traces  by  which  I 
horses  draw. 

Transmue,  v.  (A.X.),  to  transform. 

Trappttres,  n.  pi.,  the  cloths  with  which 
horses  were  covered  for  parade. 

Trare,  n.  (A.X.),  a  frame  in  which  far- 
riers put  unruly  horses. 

Tre,  n.  (A.s.),  a  tree,  wood. 

Tregetour,  n.  (A.xl,  a  juggler. 

Trental ',  n.,  a  service  of  thirty  masses, 
which  were  usually  celebrated,  upon  as 
many  different  days,  for  the  dead. 

Tresse,  n.  (A.x.l,  a"n  artificial  lock,  or 
gathering  of  hair. 

Tressed,  gathered  in  a  tress,  or  tresses. 

Tretaltle,  adj.  (A.X.).  tractable. 

Tret  it,  adj.  (A.X.),  long  and  well  propor- 
tioned. 

Triacle,  n.  (,\.x.\  n  remedy  in  general. 

Trice,  v.  (A.s.1.  to  thrust. 

Trie.  adj.  tried  or  refined  ;  chosen. 

Trille,  v.  (A.S.),  to  twirl,  to  turn  round  ; 
to  roll,  to  trickle. 

Trine,  adj.  (A.x.l,  triple. 

Trip,  n.,  a  small  piece  of  cheese. 

Trnmpe.  n.  (A.X.),  a  trumpet. 

Trompntir,  n.,  a  trumpeter. 

Trmrhorn,  n.  (A.X.\  a  spear  without  a 
head. 

Trouble,  adj.  (A.X.).  dark,  gloomy. 

Tnwv,  v.  (A.s.).  to  believe. 

Truandise,  n.  (A.X.),  begging,  wandering 
abroad. 

Tulle,  v.  (A.S.),  to  allure. 

Turmenfisf.  n.  (A.X.\  torment. 

Tu-eiflild,  adj.  (A. s.),  double. 

Twif/ht,  pulled,  plucked. 

Twinne,  v.  (A.S.),  to  depart  from  a  place, 
or  thing  ;  to  separate  ;  ticinned,  sepa- 
rated. 


Twist,  n.  (A. s.),  a  twig. 

Twiste,  v.  (A.s.),  to  twitch,  to  pull  hardi 

Twy,  adv.,  twice. 

Uyly,  adj.  (A.S.),  horrid,  frightful. 

L'tict,  11.,  ounce. 

L'nconniny,  part,  pr.,  ignorant, ;  n.,  ignor 

ance. 

Uncouth,   part,  pa.,    unknown,   uncom- 
mon, not  vulgar,  elegant. 
Undnrgrou'f,  part,  pa.,  undergrown,  of  » 

low  stature. 

Underling,  n.  (A.S.),  an  inferior. 
Undertnele.  n.  (A.s.).  the  time  after  thu 

meal  of  dinner  ;  the  afternoon. 
Uniicm,  n.  (A.S.),  the  third  hour  of  the 

artificial  day  :   nine  o'clock,  A.M. 
Under  name,  took  up,  received. 
Uiiderjjight:  hi-  dranke.,  and  «•<-//  his  gir- 

del  underpiyht,  he  drank,  and  stutt'ec. 

his  girdle  well. 
I'Hderitpore,  v.  (A.S.),  to  raise  a  thing, bj 

putting  a  spear,  or  pole,  under  it. 
Understand?,  i>art.  pa.,  understood. 
Vnfestiiche,  adj.,  not  suitable  to  a  feast 
Unhvlv,  n.  (.A.s'.',  misfortune. 
Unkindvly,  adv.,  unnaturally. 
L'nlnst,  n.  (A.S. 1,  dislike. 
L'nnethe,  nnnfthex,  adv.  (A.S.),  scarcely. 

not  easily,  never. 
Unrest,    n.,    want    of    rest,   uneasiness 

trouble. 

Uiiriyht,  n.,  wrong. 
(Jitftad,  adj.,  unsteady. 
Unsely,  adj.,  unhappy. 
Unset,  part,  pa.,  not  appointed. 
Unxhetfr;  pa.  t..  opened. 
Unxtekked,  part,  pa.,  unslaked. 
Unsoff    adj.,  hard. 
Unsnfficicitt.  adj.,  insuflicient. 
Uiithftitl-,  n.,  no  thanks,  ill-will. 
Until,  prep.  (A.s.),  to.  unto. 
Untime,  n..  an  unseasonable  time. 
Untresxed.  part,  pa.,  not  tied  ii/  a  trea*. 

or  tresses. 

Unfrittfe,  v..  to  mistrust. 
Vn trust,  n..  di.- trust. 
Untcftrp,  part,  pa.,  unforeseen. 
T^nireld,  adj..  unwieldy. 
Uinremmefl,  ]>.'irt.  pa.,  unspotted. 
Uniretiiif/.  part.  pr..  not  knowing. 
T~nireti>it/l;,.  adv.,  ignoranlly. 
I'niriftf,  part.   pa.,  unknown. 
f'nirit.  n.,  wnnt  fif  wit. 
Unyolden,  part,  pa.,  not  having  yielded 
£r/>,  prep.   (A.S.\  upon  :  ?ty>  o/(  /ewif/,  ui« 

in   the   country  ;    ny»  so  doun,  upside 

down. 

Upper,  higher. 

Uphnf,  )'a.  t.  of  n/il>fre.  lioaved  up. 
Upnn,  adv..  7(p  /(ar/  /ipnn.  be  had  on. 
Upright,  adj.  (A.s.),  straight. 
Usftge,n.  (A. x.),  experience,  practice. 
Ufmit,   part.  pr.   (A.X.),    using,    »ccu» 

tonied- 


630 


GLOSSARY. 


Utter,  adv.  (A.  s.).  outward,  more  out, 
Uttereste,  uttermost. 

Uttroi,  v.  (A.S.K  to  publish  ;  to  give  out, 
sell. 

Vaine,  n.  (A.X.),  vein. 

Viilufe,  n.  (A.N.),  value. 

I'arinunt  (A.X.),  changeable. 

Vassalage,  n.  (A.X.),  valor,  courage. 

I'tieasour,  11.  The  precise  import  of  this 
word  is  often  as  obscure  as  its  original. 
Perhaps  it  should  be  understood  to 
mean  the  whole  class  of  middling  land- 
holders. 

J'c-ntri/e,  n.  (A.  X.),  hunting;  the  chase. 

Ventusyny,  n.  (A.x.),  cupping ;  a  surgi- 
cal terui. 

V eminent,  adv.  (A.X.),  truly. 

Verray,  adj.  (A.X.),  true. 

yerdtyrvxsv,  n.  (A.X.),  the  rust  of  brass. 

Verger,  n.  (A.x.),  a  garden. 

Vernaye  (A.x.),  a  species  of  wine. 

Vemicle,  n.,  diminutive  of  reronike 
(A.x.).  A  copy  in  immature  of  the  pic- 
ture of  Christ,  which  is  supposed  to 
have  been  miraculously  imprinted 
upon  a  handkerchief,  preserved  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Peter  at  Koine.  It  was 
usual  for  persons  returning  from  pil- 
grimages to  bring  with  them  certain 
tokens  of  the  several  places  which 
they  had  visited  ;  and  therefore  the 
pardoner,  who  is  just  arrived  from 
Rome,  is  represented  with  a  vernicle 
sewed  upon  his  cappe. 

fertuons,  adj.  (A.x.),  active,  efficacious. 

Vessel, n.  (A.x.).  plate. 

Viafff,  n.  (A.x.).  a  journey. 

Vicary,  n.,     vicar. 

Vigil e,  vit/'lie,  n.  (A.X.),  the  eve  of  a 
festival ',  the  wake,  or  watching,  of  a 
dead  body. 

Vyllanie,n.(A.y.),  any  thing  unbecom- 
ing a  gentleman. 

Vinolent,  adj.,  full  of  wine. 

Virclai/e,  n.  (A.x.),  "around;  freeman's 
song."  Cot-grave. 

fixftf/e,  v.  (A.x.),  to  front,  to  face  a 
thing. 

Voydi',  v.  C.x.x.),  to  remove,  to  quit,  to 
make  empty,  to  depart,  to  go  away. 

Vnlar/e.  adj.  (A.X.),  light,  giddy. 

Volatile,  n.  (A.N.),  wild  fowls,  game. 

Volunte,  n.  (A.N.),  will. 

Vohtpere,  n.,  a  woman's  cap  ;  a  night- 
cap. 

Voxclie.  v.  (A.x.):»0MCiVn  saitf.  to  vouch- 
safe :  vfiuc.lteth  saiif,  vouchsafe  ye ; 
the  kin  ft  rnuches  it  save,  the  king 
vouchsafes  it. 

Waar,  adj.  (A.S.),  aware. 
Waferers.  n.  pi.,  sellers  of  wafers. 
Wafoures,   n.    pi.,    wafers,   a    sort    of 
cakes. 


Waget,  3321 :  a  light  waget  is  supposed 

to  mean  a  light  blue  color. 
Waymenting,  n.  (A.S.),  lamentation. 
Wayne,  n.  (A.S.),  a  wagon. 
Waite,  v.  (A.X.),  to  watch. 
Wake,  v.  (A.S.),  to  watch. 
Wala  ifa,  or    Wa    la  ira,  interj    (AS; 

Woe  !  alas  ! 
Walwe,  v.    (A.S.),  to  tumble    about.  t« 

wallow. 

Wane,  v.    (A.s.).  to  decrease. 
Wang,  n.  (A.s.),  a  cheek-tooth. 
Wanger,    n.   (A.S.),    a   support    for   th» 

c^eek,  a  pillow. 
WMltnpe,  i  .  (A.S.),  despair. 
Wantrust,  n.  (A.s.),  distrust. 
Wardecorps,  n.  (A.x.).  body-guard. 
Wardeyn.  n.  (A.x.).  a  warden  of  a  col- 
lege, a  guard,  a  keeper  of  a  gate :  tror. 

(Icyns,  pi.,  guards,  watchmen. 
Wardrobe,  n.  (A.x.).  a  privy. 
U'ariant/lex,  a  small  woodpecker,  black 

and  white  of  color,  and  but  half  as  big 

as  the  ordinary  green  one. 
Jf 'arice,  icari*}/,    v.   (A.x.),  to  heal  ;  v. 

neut.,  to  recover  from  sickness. 
Warisoun,  n.,  reward. 
U'ariie.  v.   (A.S-),  to  caution,  to  apprise, 

to  refuse. 
Wamestore,    v.    (A.s.),    to   furnish,    to 

store. 
Warrie,  v.  (A.s.),  to  abuse,  to  speak  evil 

of. 
Wa.itel-breed,  cake-bread,  bread  made  of 

the  finest  flour  ;  from  the  Fr.  yusteau, 

a  cake. 

Wastour,  n.  I'A.N/.  a  spoiler. 
Waice,  n.  (A.S.),  a  wave. 
Way,  adv.,  away  ;  do  way,  do  away,  put 

away. 

Wf.bbe,  n.  (A.s.),  a  weaver. 
Wedde,  n.  (A.s.),  a  pawn,  or  pledge. 
Wi-ile.  n.  (A.S.),  clothing,  apparel. 
Weyre,  v.  (A.s.),    to  forsake,  to  declin 

to  refuse,  to  depart. 
Welde,  v.  (A.S.),  to  govern,  to  wield. 
Wtle,  n.  (A.s.),  wealth,  prosperity. 
It'clrful,  adj.,  productive  of  liaiipiness 
WtlKfd  (A.s.),  withered,  mouldy. 
Welkin,  n.  (A.S.),  the  sky. 
Wi-lle,  v.  (A.s.),  to  flow. 
Welte,  pa.  t.  of  welde,  governed. 
Wr.mme,  n.  (A.s.),  a  spot,  a  fault. 
We-nche.  n.  (A.s.),  a  young  woman.    It  ia 

sometimes     used    in    an   opprobrious 

sense:   /  am  a  c/entil   icomnn,  mid  an 

wencne. 
Wi-nd,  for  ircnfd,  pa.  t.  of  icene,  thought 

intended. 

Wende,  wendrn,  v.  (A.s.),  to  go. 
Wene,  v.  (A.s.),  to  think,  to  suppose. 
Went,  part.  pa.  of  vcnde.  gone. 
Wcpen,ri.  (A.S.),  a  weapon. 
Werke,  n.  (A.s.),  work  ;  v.,  to  work. 
Werne,  T.,  to  warn. 


GLOSSARY. 


631 


Werre,  n.  (A.N.),  war. 

Wtrreye,  v.  (A.N.),  to  make  war  against. 

WVr/y,  adj.  (A.S.),  weary. 

Wean,  pa.  t.  of  wash,  washed. 

Wf.f<;  adj.  (A.s.),  wet ;  v.,  to  wet. 

ll'rtr,  v.  (A.S.),  to  know. 

Wrfhi-r,  n.  (A.S.),  the  weather;  a  cas- 
l  rated  ram. 

•  I'l-fi/ny,  n.  (A.s.),  knowledge. 

JIV.c,  pa.   t.  of  «'a.re  or  wexe,  v.  (A.s.), 
waxed.  grew. 

It  i-.riui/.  part,  pa.,  increasing. 

ff'i-i/i',  n.  (A.S.),  a  way. 

n'lint,  pron.  indef.,  something  :  n  little 

what  ;  what  for  lore  anil  fur  distress, 

.    partly  for  love,  and  partly  for  distress*. 

Wtienncs,  adv.,  whence. 

Whether,  adj.  (A.s.),  which  of  two. 

Whllk,  adj.  (A.S.),  which. 

Wide-where,  adv.  (A.S.),  widely,  far  and 
near. 

Wif,  n.  (A.S.),  a  wife,  a  woman. 

Wifhode,  n.  (A.s.),  the  state  of  a  wife. 

Wijles,  adj.,  unmarried. 

Wlfly,  adj.,  becoming  a  wife. 

Wiffht,  n.  (A .s.),  a  creature;  a  person,  \ 
male  or  female  ;  a  small  space  of  time;  I 
a  witch  :  adj.,  active,  swift:  tciffhtes,  j 
11.  pi.,  witches. 

Wiket,  n.  (A.X.),  a  wicket. 

Wikke,  adj.  (A.s.),  wicked. 

Wiln,  toTwillen,  they  will. 

Wilne,  v.  (A.s.),  to  desire. 

Wymple,  11.   (A,X.),  a  covering  for  the 
neck. 

Windas,  n.  (A.X.),  an    engine   to   raise 
stones,  &c. 

Wiiide,  v.  (A.s.),  to  turn  round. 

Wislg,  adv.  (A.s.).  certainly. 

Wisse,  v.  (A.S.),  to  teach,  to  direct. 

Wiste,  knew. 

Wife,  v.  (A.s.),  to  know,  to  blame,  to  im- 
pute to;  n.,  blame. 

Withholds,  v.  (A.S-)I  to  stop,  retain,  de- 
tain. 

Withsnyn,  withsni/e,  irithseye,  v.  (A.S.), 
to  contradict,  to'deny. 

Wittf,  n.  (A.S.).  understanding,  capacity, 

Witti's,  n.  pi.,  the  senses  of  man. 

Wlatsam,  adj.  (A.s.),  loathsome. 

Wode,  wood,  adj.   (A.s.1,  mad,    violent  : 
v.,  to  grow  mad. 

n'ofleti'dlt',   n-,   a   bird,   a  sort  of  wood- 
pecker. 

ll'olile,  woldcn,  would. 

Wold,  part.  pa.,  willed.  ln-infj  willing. 

n'omanhede,  n.,  womanhood,  the  \irtue 
of  a  woman. 

Wonvd,  dwelled. 

Won«,  n.  (A.S.),  custom,  usage,  habita- 
tion :  a  heap,  an  assembly. 

Wane,  v.  (AS.),  to  dwell. 

Waned,  part,  pa.,  wont,  accustomed. 

Won  in  ff,  n.  (A.s.),  a  dwelling. 

Wont,  part.  pa.  of  wone,  accustomed. 


Wooiliu-ss,  n.,  madness. 

Wordiv*,  adj.,  speechless. 

n'or/tles,  the  gen.  c.  of  world,  is  used  ii> 
the  sense  of  the  adj.  worldly  :  tcery 
world vx  sore  ;  mi/  worldrs  bliss?. 

Wort,  n.  (A.S.),  a  plant,  a  cabbage  ;  new 
beer  in  a  state  of  fermentation. 

Wont,  knowest. 

Wote,  v.  (A.S.),  to  know. 

Wot,  pa.  t.,  knew. 

Woxe,  grew. 

Wo.crn,  grown. 

Wrathen,  v.  (A.s.),  to  make  angry. 

Wrawe,  adj.  (A.S.),  peevish, angry. 

Wrawnes,  n.,  peevishness. 

U'reche,  n.  (A.s.),  revenge. 

Wrenches,  n.  pi.  (A.S.),  frauds,  strata 
gems, 

Wrest,  \.  (A.S.),  to  twist,  to  turn  forcibly. 

Wrei/e,  v.  (A.s.),  to  betray. 

Wrye,  v.  (A.s.),  to  cover,  to  turn,  to  in- 
cline. 

Wrir/ht,  n.  (A.S.),  a  workman,  an  arti- 
san. 

Wrote,  v.  (A.S.),  to  dig  with  the  snout  aa 
swine  do. 

Wrought,  made. 

Wys,a,dj.  (A.S.).  wise. 

Y  at  the  beginning  of  many  words,  es- 
pecially verbs  and  particles,  is  a  cor- 
ruption of  the  Saxon  Uv :  in  Chaucer 
it  does  not  appear  \o  have  any  effect 
upon  the  sense  of  a  word,  so  that  there 
seems  to  be  no  necessity  for  inserting 
in  a  glossary  such  words  as  yblessed, 
y granted,  &c.,  which  differ  not  in  sig- 
nification from  blessed, granted,  &c. 

}'«,  adj.  (A.S),  yea. 

Yaw.  adv.  (A.s.),  ready. 

Yate,  n.  (A.s.),  gate. 

Ye,  adj.  (A.s.),  yea. 

Yi'drlinrjes,  feasts,  or  perhaps  story-tell- 
ings. 

Yede  (A.s.),  went. 

Yeftf,  n.  (A.s),  a  gift. 

Yelde,  v.  (A.S.\  to  yield,  to  give,  to  pay. 

Yt-lpv,  v.  (A.s.),  to  prate,  to  boast. 

Yelte,  yields. 

Yeman,  n.  (A.s.),  a  servant  of  middling 
tank,  a  bailiff. 

)'<  mrinrie,  n.,  the  rank  of  a  yeoman. 

Yt-ti,  the  eyes. 

Yi  rili\  n.  (A.S.),  a  rod  or  staff:  under  the 
H '  rile,  properly  said  of  children  under 
discipline. 

Ymie,  adj.  (A.s.).  brisk,  eager  :  adv., 
briskly,  eagerly,  early,  soon,  immedi- 
ately.' 

Yi-nie,  v.,  to  desire,  to  seek  eagerly. 

Yiiont/li,  //HOW, adv.  (A.s.).  enough. 

Yoldcn,  given,  yielded, repaid. 

Ynre,  adv.  (A.S.),  uf  a  long  tiiMe,  a  little 
before. 

Y'oxe,  v.  (A.s.),  to  hiccup. 


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